


Scars Never Shown

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non Curse AU: Following the death of his eighteen year old son, Tristan Gold decides to leave Storybrooke to get away from the memories and his mistakes. Seven years later he returns with his new fiancee, and learns that Belle French, his late son's best friend, has a few secrets of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Burying the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this wasn't supposed to happen. My muse was not supposed to attack me again, but alas, here we are.I've always wanted to do a Non Curse AU set in Storybrooke and finally inspiration struck. I was actually sitting on this idea but my friends on tumblr really wanted this fic. I'm still working on all of my other stories, I promise, my muse is just easily amused and since there is only one me, it takes time to write. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this new fic.
> 
> WARNING: There is an underage relationship in this fic. Technically since the age of consent in Maine is 16 there is no underage issue, but I know some people can still find that weird so I thought I'd put that out there first.

 

 

Prologue: Burying the Dead

 

It was a cold day in March when the church bell’s sang a solemn tune. The town of Storybrooke, Maine was silent. No children played in the lingering snow, shops were dark and locked tight. The only sign of life came from the church as the congregation left the bleak halls to carry on with the dismal deed ahead.

            No one spoke a word as they followed Father Langston up the hill to the rows and rows of headstones and the mirthless monuments to the ones who had long gone. Behind the grim priest, Tristan Gold walked alone. Normally his limp and his can would make him one of the stragglers, but today he was at the head of the assembly. He looked at no one but he kept his eyes on the path ahead. Someone had the foresight to shovel and salt the gravel walkway. His shiny loafers were soon coated with dust left from the salt, but that mattered not at all to him. There was little to care for anymore.

            Ahead of the good father and Gold, six young men carried a gleaming mahogany casket. It was handcrafted, sanded and polished until was blinding in the morning sunlight. Gold never too his eyes off the wooden box that held all he truly held dear.

            The pallbearers stopped at one empty plot in one of the rows of headstones, nestled beneath two barren oak trees. The men carefully put the coffin on the apparatus under the canopy that shielded the six foot hole cut into the earth. Gold took his place beside the coffin. The others gathered around, spectators to his grief.

            A brand new stone rested at the top of the hole. The words were carved into it’s clean, granite face:

_Neal Bailey Gold_

_Beloved Son and Friend_

_February 17 th 1989—March 8th, 2007_

 

            Gold didn’t listen to Father Langston’s final speech. He kept reading the headstone over and over. Beloved Son. Somehow those words just couldn’t convey the depths of how beloved he was. Only two weeks ago they had celebrated his birthday. Eighteen, a few months away from graduating, his whole life ahead of him and one cruel twist of fate ended that. Two weeks. Not his whole life ahead, just two short weeks.

            “Mr. Gold?” He tore his gaze away from the stone to look at the priest. “It’s time to say your final goodbye.”

            Someone pressed a white rose into his hand. His legs were wooden as he walked to the coffin. The flower quivered in his fingers before he put it on top of the casket. He stopped and lay his palm flat on the lid. The wood was cold, no breath of life stirring beneath it. He knew that, but this was the last moment he would have with his boy.

            Everyone held their breaths, waiting for something: for him to bury his face into his hands and cry, for him to rip the lid off the coffin and hold his only child, for him to scream at God for taking his son away too soon. He did nothing. He shuffled away from the casket to let the others say their goodbyes.

            Neal had been loved by all. He was popular in his school and in town, unlike his father. Gold watched as his son’s classmates and teacher all filed up to place their flowers. Only one dared to look at him.

            Belle French sniffled as she put her rose down amongst the others, when she turned around and looked to Gold. Her pale blue eyes were so vibrant against the black dress she wore, dusted with snow. She had been Neal’s friend since he was fourteen and she a year younger. Even Gold had been surprised when Neal had taken in the skinny bookworm under his wing back when she had first arrived from Australia. She was a good girl, sweet and just as beloved by the small town as Neal. She had blossomed into quite the beauty since her gawky adolescent years. Neal had never said, but Gold always thought perhaps their odd little friendship had grown into something more. Seeing her tearstained face, her cheeks and nose red, Gold actually felt a bit more than just his own grief.

            When the last flower was laid, nearly blanketing the top with white petals, Father Langston bid them all to grieve, but to remember that Neal was in a better place. They did not fill Gold with cheer.

            His final act for the whole ceremony was to walk forward and throw a handful of dirt over the coffin. He stood and watched as the casket was lowered, slowly sinking into bowels of the earth, disappearing from view. Once the joists stopped, Gold limped to the mound of soil. It was surprisingly large, a miniature mountain of brown sitting beside the grave. Was all of this to sit on top of his son for all eternity? He dug his hand into the first. It was cold, almost solid. The diggers must have toiled to break the frozen ground for him in the dark hours of the morning. He squeezed the dirt into his fist, feeling a pebble dig into his palm. That small bite of stone was all that kept him from falling apart. He stopped at the foot of the grave and stared at the coffin below him.

            No parent thinks about this moment as they hold their newborn baby in their arms, when they first drop him off to school, or feed him cookies when his first crush rebuffs him. They think of seeing his face light up when he gets his first car, the pride they feel when he walks across the stage to get his diploma, or the joy he will feel when he is holding his first child. Gold would have none of that. This was the end of all of those dreams. His future lay six feet below him in a wooden box.

            Slowly, he let the dirt slip from his fingers. It rained down onto the coffin, disturbing a few of the roses. And it was done.

            He didn’t move from his spot. He wasn’t even aware of the other mourners leaving. They had said their goodbyes, they would grieve for a few days, but for them life would return to normal in a week or two. Not for him. Everything he’d worked for, his whole purpose in life was gone.

            The warmth of a hand slipping into his startled him. He turned and met the watery blue eyes of Belle. She attempted a smile, but her lips only curled up part of the way. He stared down at their joined hand then met her eyes again.

            Everyone else had gone. It was just the two of them and the diggers who each had a shovel, ready to put the earth back in the hole. So they stood there in silence together as shovel after shovelful of dirt was dropped onto the coffin. There was surely a gathering at Granny’s with food and commiserating over the love of one so young, but it seemed neither was ready to leave Neal yet.

            It wasn’t until the final shovelful hit the loose earth, the last scrape of soil against metal, that Gold felt the final piece of his heart shatter. The tears he had held back fell in earnest, perhaps never to end. His boy! His precious boy was gone!

            All that kept him from going mad was the warmth of Belle’s hand as she squeezed his fingers.

 


	2. Chapter 1: Welcome Back to Storybrooke

Chapter 1: Welcome Back to Storybrooke

 

            “This is the captain speaking. We are now beginning our descent into Boston Logan International Airport and we should be at our gate in about twenty minutes.  The weather is clear and is seventy seven degrees. I would like our flight attendants to prepare the cabin for arrival. We’d like to thank you all for flying with us today and hope you choose us again on your next trip.”

            Tristan Gold was already sitting straight up in his seat, his fingers digging into the arm rests. The scotch neat he’d had earlier had only gone so far to calm his nerves. It had been a six hour flight from Los Angeles and he still had a two hour drive before he reached Storybrooke.

            His stomach swooped down towards his shoes and it had nothing to do with the plane. He’d left Storybrooke seven years ago and never thought of returning. He hadn’t planned on anything really. He’d wound up in L.A. because it was as far from Maine as he could get. The closer he got to his former home, the more his stomach coiled into a knot.

            His companion did not have the same ailment despite the fact that she had been gone from Storybrooke far longer than he. Cora Mills was using her compact to reapply her lipstick and go over her hair one more time with her perfectly manicured nails. The large diamond ring on her left hand winked in the lights of the First Class cabin. She met his eyes through her mirror and have gave him a smile. “Don’t be nervous, darling. Everything will be all right.”

            “I’m not…not nervous, per se,” he told her, “it’s just…”

            “I know,” she said, “It’s hard. I can’t imagine how painful this is, but I’m glad you’re here. You know how much I’ve missed Storybrooke and with Regina starting her first term as mayor, I feel it’s important to be there for her.”

            He envied that with Cora. Her daughter was alive and well, starting her climb up the political ladder to fulfill her dreams. He had once had such dreams himself. He’d always hoped Neal would go to law school, maybe run for District Attorney then the State Attorney General. Sometimes he had even fancied his boy becoming President.

            It did no good to remember those things. Those dreams had ended long ago. He never forgot the pain of losing his only child, but at least now the moments of bone-crushing sorrow were fewer and far between. If he tried hard enough, sometimes he could remember what happiness felt like.

            Cora’s return into his life had helped him immensely. Three years ago he’d run into her at a minor function. She’d been dating a plastic surgeon then, but that hadn’t stopped either of them from engaging in some casual flirting. It had been nice to feel like his old self again in those moments, to remember a time when he’d been happier and the future brighter. Their previous relationship had ended thirteen years before but it neither one had carried a grudge. Then this past year Cora had come to him for a prenup. Apparently the surgeon had asked her to marry him. The hours the two of them had spent forming that document had reminded him of their younger years, when he was still finding his feet and she was struggling with her dying marriage. Apparently old flames could still burn hot. The engagement only lasted four months. Then Cora had come back to him and they’d carried on as they had before. It seemed right to propose to her seven weeks ago. Neither one of them was young anymore, there was no reason to waste time.

            So once she finished with her hair and makeup, she put the compact back into her purse and then took his hand. It helped to soothe him until the plane hit the tarmac. With Cora by his side, he was beginning to feel like maybe he could do this.

            That ended when they went to get their luggage.

            “I’m sorry sir, but it appears your bag was put on the wrong flight,” the perky woman with shockingly red hair set in wire curls that exploded from her scalp in tangled cloud.

            “Well I gathered that already, what I’d like to know is where it is?”

            “I’m afraid I’m not sure. We’ll send it to you when it is found.”

            He gave her a bitter look. “I’m quite confident in the skills of an agency that lost my luggage to return it to me with no trouble at all.”

            “Tristan, no need to be rude,” Cora chided him softly.

            The woman just continued to smile like an Barbie doll. “We do apologize for this inconvenience. If there is anything I can do to help please let me know.”

            “Fire your hair stylist.”

            Seeing her smile falter almost made the aggravation of his lost luggage worth it. At least the airport hadn’t screwed up the plans for the driver Cora hired. Cora’s four bags were all loaded up. Amazing how the airport could keep track of four Louis Vuiton suitcases but lose his one bag.

            He was still seething when they reached Maine. The only upside was his bitterness had distracted him to the point that he almost missed the old green sign that read “Welcome to Storybrooke”.

            He was back.

            The Mill’s mansion had still been empty back when he had first left. Regina hadn’t moved back into town until five years ago, but she’d managed to work her up to the Mayor’s position in record time. Cora had warned him before that her and her daughter’s relationship was a bit strained, another reason why she was eager to move back in order to patch things up. Which is why it wasn’t a surprise that she wasn’t at the airport to greet them.

            Instead, Regina was inside the house, sitting on the couch in the living room, a glass of scotch in her hands. She did stand when they entered and attempted a warm smile. “Hello mother,” she said.

            “Regina, darling, how wonderful to see you again.” Cora waltzed over to her daughter and pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks. “I’m so glad to be back in Storybrooke with you. You remember, Tristan?”

            “Vividly,” she replied, “Hello Mr. Gold. Welcome back to Storybrooke.”

            “Thank you,” he said. She gave him one last stony look and then took up her scotch again. Cora had a lot of work put out for her.

            Regina retreated back to her office at the town hall as soon as she could. Meanwhile Cora decided to unpack and fix up their room to her preferences. Since he had no luggage to unpack, that left him with the grim task of picking up what he needed to get him by until the airline could find his suitcase.

            He went to his shop first, perhaps the safest place for him to be. Outwardly it hadn’t changed much. The sign was still the same and many of the same products hung in the window. The bell still rang when he entered, though it was strange seeing Dove come out of the backroom. He had asked his assistant to take his place when he left. Dove had kept him well informed of what profits he was turning, when renters were late with their money, and to ask his opinion on if he should grant someone a loan.

            “Mr. Gold,” the tall, bald man greeted softly. For a large man, Dove was never the type to speak much or even loudly.

            “Dove.”

            “Welcome back.”

            “Thank you. You’ve done an admirable job in my absence.”

            Dove only nodded. He rarely smiled, but perhaps that was one of the things that Gold liked about that man. He didn’t need praise or platitude to fuel him, he just did his job. “Would you like to go over the books?”

            “No, I’m sure everything is in order. I was wondering if you would drop by the house and pick up some things for me. The airlines lost my luggage.”

            “Of course.” Dove didn’t had to ask why Gold was reluctant to go himself.

            “Thank you.”

            Dove showed him a few items that recently came in and discussed a few business ventures he might be interested in. Then Gold left to get the toiletries he needed that wouldn’t be at his home: toothbrush, toothpaste, and other necessary items.

            The people of Storybrooke were silent in his wake. He saw very few new faces. Most people that came to Storybrooke never left. Everyone had aged, gained more lines around their mouths and eyes and grey in their hair. The children had grown, some to nearly unrecognizable levels. A few new children had been born, but on the whole the town was the same. The same shops, the same people, the same routine for it’s daily life.

            He walked into the pharmacy/convenience store that most everyone used to pick up their odds and ends. There was a produce market on Plum Street, but there was no real grocery store in Storybrooke so the Dark Star Pharmacy furnished most of those needs. He did his best to ignore the stares and whispers as he went about getting what he needed.

             The aisles seemed more cramped than they used to be, but that was probably due to his time spent in the large supermarkets in L.A. rather than the quaint stores of a small New England town. It shouldn’t have surprised him when he actually bumped into someone when he was turning around with his toothpaste in hand.

            It was a small woman who turned out to be his victim. While he dropped his toothpaste, she dropped her entire basket, sending it’s contents falling across the aisle.

            “I’m terribly sorry,” he told her.

            “It’s all right. I wasn’t looking where I—.” She glanced up at him and the words died in her throat.

            He knew the face well. The same clear blue eyes, high cheeks, all framed by chestnut curls spilled in waves around her shoulders. She blinked at him with obvious shock. He couldn’t do much more either, but her name did slip free from his lips before he could stop himself. “Belle?”

            She had hardly changed at all. She’d lost the remainder of her baby fat, leaving behind the fine curves and lines of a grown woman. She wasn’t wearing jeans and t-shirts now. Instead she had a checkered pencil skirt and coral blouse the framed her elegantly.

            “I didn’t—,” he said.

            “I had no idea—.” she said at the same time. Then they both lapsed into silence.

            What was she doing here? She should have left Storybrooke years ago. He knew her father didn’t have a lot of money, but she’d had the grades to go to college and take the world by storm. Had she come back? It seemed like a strange move on her part to return. She and Neal both had dreams of going to college and finding themselves outside of Storybrooke. She should have done all of that.

            Belle had given up on talking to him. Instead she bent down to gather her items.

            “Let me help,” he told her.

            “That—that’s not necessary.”

            “Please,” he said and went to get a box of cereal that had skittered across the aisle from her. He lifted up and read the box. “Cocoa Marshmallow Mateys?” he read with one brown raised. There was even a goofy pirate on the cover with a parrot and a hook for a hand.

            “Oh, that’s,” she stopped and swallowed, “That’s not mine. It’s…it’s my son’s.”

            He couldn’t have hidden his surprise even if he had tried. “Your son?”

            Belle nodded and then took the cereal back from his limp hand. “He likes chocolate.”

            “Makes sense.” Now that he looked at it, he could see a number of items in her basket for a growing boy: pudding packs, popsicles, even bandages with dinosaurs on them. She had even been reaching for the children’s toothpaste, vanilla flavored.

            “What’s his name?”

            “Liam,” she said.

            “How old is he?”

            She never answered his question. Just then a breezy voice called out, “There you are!” and then he smelled Cora’s Chanel perfume before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve been looking all over for you, darling. I went by your shop, but your man said you went into town.”

            Belle took a step back, still holding the box of toothpaste in her hand. Cora fixed her with large smile. “Hello. I don’t we’ve believe we’ve met.

            “No, you haven’t,” he said, “Cora, this is Belle. She moved here after you left.”

            “You’re Cora Mills,” Belle said.

            “That’s right. I’m Tristan’s fiancée and Regina’s mother.” Cora let out a light laugh. “I forgot how quickly word travels here.”

            “No, It’s just…someone I once knew told me about you once.”

            “Oh, well it’s nice to be remembered.” She still smiled at her. “How do you know Tristan?”

            “From a long time ago,” he answered for her.

            “Yes,” Belle agreed, “I was just getting a few things for my son.

            “Oh,” Cora said, “Is your husband around? I’m sure we’d love to meet him.”

            “No,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, “I’m not married.”

            Her answer left him stunned again, but Cora gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…”

            “No, it’s quite all right. I should be going anyways.” Belle gave him one last look. “It was nice to see you again.” He watched her scurry off towards the front of the store, presumably to check out and leave.

            “She’s lovely,” Cora said, “How do you know her?”

            “From a long time ago.”

            “Yes, but there must be some reason behind it,” she replied, “Did she work for you?”

            “No.” He didn’t want to talk about Belle or how he knew her or what their relationship had been. It tread to close to why he had left and why he hadn’t wanted to come back.

            “She seems a little young for you, how else could you have known her.”

            He shut his eyes and let out a long breath. “She was Neal’s friend.”

            “Oh,” Cora said softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

            “It’s all right.”

            “Were the two of you close? Did you know her well before?”

            He wondered over that for a second. Memories of when he was happy, when his son was alive, when Belle was a sweet little bookworm who loved nothing more than to explore his shop or press books into Neal’s reluctant hands. There were other memories too, of a sin he’d rather soon forget.

            “No,” he lied smoothly, “No I barely knew her.”

* * *

            Belle almost forgot her change when she made her purchases. Dr. Clark had to remind her to take her fifty-seven cents before she bolted out of the store. The logical place for her to go next would be home, but her shoes took her across the street to Granny’s Diner instead. Right now it was between the lunch and the dinner rush, so only a few people were in the diner. Ruby was coming out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee.

            “Hey, Belle. Can I get you a cup?”

            She shook her head. “He’s back.”

            “Who?” Ruby asked, pouring coffee into Marco’s mug.

            “ _Him_ ,” Belle said.

            “Who him?”

            Belle sighed and whispered, “Tristan Gold.”

            “Thirst and mold?” Ruby frowned at her like she had suddenly turned green.

            “Gold,” Belle finally hissed loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tristan Gold!”

            Ruby’s dark eyes immediately widened. “Oh my God.” She set the pot of coffee down on the counter and grabbed Belle’s arm. “Come on.”

            “Hey!” Leroy called after her, “I wanted more coffee!”

            “Pour it yourself!” she yelled back. She dragged Belle through the kitchen and into the dry storage closet. Shelves of flour, rice, sugar, beans, coffee and other products surrounded them, all lit by the light of one dull yellow bulb. “Gold?” Ruby said, “Gold is back?”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I ran into him at the pharmacy.”

            “Oh my God!” Ruby looked at the closed door and then whispered. “Did you tell him about Liam?”

            “Well he saw the pirate cereal he likes,” Belle said.

            “So he knows.”

            “He knows I have a son.”

            “And that’s it?”

            “Yeah,” Belle said, “because then his fiancée showed up.”

            “What! He’s getting married! To who?”

            “Cora Mills,” she told her, “The new mayor’s mother.”

            “Well,” Ruby said with a slight bite to her tone, “Won’t they be the power couple of this town.” She let that fester for a minute, but the silence softened. “Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine,” Belle said in what hoped was a convincing voice. Ruby’s expression that followed told her it wasn’t.

            “Really?”

            “Its been seven years, Ruby, Gold getting engaged isn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.”

            “I guess bigger things have happened,” Ruby admitted though her eyes still showed some concern. “How long is he back?”

            “I don’t know. I got out of there as soon as I could.”

            “So you didn’t tell him?” Belle shook her head. “Are you going to?”

            “I don’t know. I’m not even sure how long he’s here. Maybe him and his fiancée are just here to visit Regina.”

            “And if they’re not?”

            Belle froze at her words. What would she do then? Seven years! He’d been gone for seven years, why did he have to come back now? “I don’t know,” she admitted softly.

            “Belle, he’s not stupid. I may not have known the guy as well as you did, but I remember that much pretty clear. If he stays…”

            “I can’t focus on that right now,” Belle said, “I’ve got to get home.”

            “Belle…” Ruby said her name, drawing it out into two syllables.

            “It’s just…it’s too much…” she said, “Seeing him again…I can’t think about what might happen or I’ll go insane. I just really need to be with Liam right now.”

            “Okay, call me later.”

            “I will.”

            Belle took the long way home, avoiding the pharmacy and Mr. Gold’s pawnshop in case he happened to be around. Storybrooke was a small town, but it was still a long walk to the east end of town, just two blocks away from the docks. Her tiny apartment was sandwiched between a fish and bait shop and boating parts store. There was always the pungent aroma of fish in the air, even worse in the summer time. Across the street was a bar where a lot of the sailors and dockhands would hang out in their spare time. Ruby had loved to come there when they were high school to flirt with the sailors, but these guys weren’t young Navy recruits, more like greasy fishermen and barge workers.

            Belle unlocked her door and smiled when she saw Granny sitting on the sofa. “Hey.”

            “Mommy!” Liam called out when he saw her. He was sitting on the floor playing with his toy cars, but he abandoned them immediately to run and give his mother a hug. Belle dropped her bags onto the ground to wrap her arms around him.

            “Were you good for Granny today?” she asked him.

            “He was very good,” Granny answered for him.

            _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ was still on, but Liam appeared to be in no rush to return. Belle smoothed back his brown hair and kissed his forehead. “That deserves a treat. How about we go for ice cream after dinner?”

            “Yeah!” Liam cried, “With the chocolate cones?”

            “Yes.”

            “Yeah!”

            Belle smiled and gave him one last squeeze before letting him go. “You watch TV. I’ll put the groceries away and then we can fix dinner.”

            “Okay.”

            Liam went back to his toys, making vrooming sounds and beeps as he rolled his cars around on the carpet, up the sofa, and on the surface of the scuffed coffee table. She wished she could give him more than just two for a dollar cars, but he never complained.

            “Let me help you,” Granny said as she followed her into the kitchen.

            “That’s okay, it’s not much,” Belle told her, but the older woman showed no sign of stopping.

            “Ruby called,” she said in a hushed voice, “Are you all right?”

            Belle sighed and set the bags on the counter. “I’m okay, honestly.”

            “What about him? How did he look?”

            That was a complicated answer. His brown hair had gotten a few more streaks of grey, but that only helped to make him look more distinguished, especially since it was still long. His eyes had more lines in the corners and they didn’t have the same spark they used to have, before tragedy struck. On a whole though, he had aged but gracefully, like fine wine, the years had given him more character rather than robbing him of his attraction.

            “He looked the same,” Belle said. He was still Tristan Gold, the same man who left Storybrooke seven years ago. It was she who had changed.

            “Did you two talk much?”

            “No,” Belle said.

            “Well, it’s probably for the best,” Granny said.

            “Yes,” Belle agreed. It had been so long, so much had changed, there was no point in even trying to reopen that door. Best to leave it locked, bolted, and boarded up.

            “Do you think he’ll be in town long?”

            “I hope not,” Belle said. The longer Tristan Gold remained in Storybrooke, the more likely her secrets would come out. Too much was at stake now. Seven years ago one tragedy had diverted her life onto a completely different path. If the truth came out, she wasn’t sure what would be the result but she was certain it wouldn’t end well for her.

* * *

_Seven Years Ago_

 

            Despite the fact that it was January, Storybrooke was seeing a fairly mild winter. It was still in the mid 40’s, but the sky was clear and December’s snow had already melted away. Belle kept the little bag under her arm as she stopped in front of the large salmon colored house on Birch Lane. She rang the doorbell and waited on the front porch. It was still early in the evening so the porch light wasn’t on yet. The gentle tap of a cane made her smile just before the door opened.

            “Belle,” Mr. Gold said when he saw her.

            “Hi, Mr. Gold.”

            “I thought I told you to call me Tristan,” he said.

            “You still call me Miss French when others are around,” she pointed out.

            “Do I? Well I try to remember that from now on.” He pushed the door open further. “Come in, Neal is still getting ready. I wasn’t aware that I’d raised a dandy.”

            Belle giggled. “I can’t imagine where he got that from.”

            Gold narrowed his dark eyes at her. “Miss French, are you accusing me of being vain?”

            Belle looked him up and down, taking in his salon cut hair, the crisp cranberry colored shirt, his perfectly knotted navy blue tie, the immaculate crease in his trousers, and she knew if she found his jacket there would be kerchief in the pocket that would match his shirt and tie. “Not at all, clearly you’re Mr. Casual.”

            “Taking pride in ones appearance is not being vain, it is merely promoting an image of self respect.”

            “Yes and you can do that in jeans, too,” Belle said. She’d always wondered how he would look in a pair of worn Levi’s. She suspected she’d get a terrific view from behind if he did.

            He wrinkled his nose at the idea. “I don’t think I’m young enough to pull of such attire.”

            “You’re not old,” she said.

            “Thank you, Belle, but I know your generation feels anyone over the age of thirty is prehistoric.”

            “That’s not true!” she insisted.

            “You’re too kind,” he said with a smile. “Since Neal might be a while, would you like to sit? I can get you a soda if you like?”

            “I’m fine. I know someone’s bringing a cooler to the party anyways.” But she did take a seat on the sofa and put her jacket in her lap. She hadn’t meant to wear the dark blue sweater that brought out her eyes for him, but she still smiled when he eyed it with approval.

            “I imagine there will be a keg as well,” he added, “Miss Lucas does encourage juvenile delinquency.”

            Belle laughed. “She’s not like that, Tristan, she just wants to have fun. If it helps, I promise not to drink.”

            “I wasn’t worried about you, my dear, Neal on the other hand…”

            “I’ll make sure he stays sober,” she promised.

            “I appreciate that.” He looked to the little gift bag she had on the floor. “A present for the birthday girl?”

            “Oh, yes.” She picked up the back and took it’s contents out of the tissue paper for him to see. She opened the box and pulled it out. “It’s a charm bracelet, Marco helped me make it.”

            He let out an intrigued “hm” and left his chair to sit next to her on the couch so he could get a better look. “Clearly the red leather bracelet is because of her favorite color,” he said, “What’s with the moon charm?”

            “Oh, because she and I would sneak out at night when I first came into town and go up to Pine Hill and stargaze.”

            He nodded. “The cherries?”

            “Her favorite flavor of anything.”

            “And the dog is because she loves dogs?”

            “It’s a wolf,” Belle told him, “it’s her spirit animal.”

            “Hmph,” he said to that, “I wonder what my spirit animal would be. Probably a snail.”

            Belle laughed as she put the bracelet back in the box. It really was a shame no one else in town could see this side of him. It was always there, sometimes he hid it beneath an armor of cynicism and ice, but one could find the warmth and kindness if they looked hard enough. But he was full of self deprecating humor and wit with those he truly cared about.

            The stomping on the stairs alerted them that Neal was finally finished primping. He came tromping down the staircase dressed in a brown leather jacket with his hair perfectly combed and gelled into a tousled look. Belle grinned when she saw him, sneaking a glance at Gold for a second. Neal would deny it until his last breath how much like his father he was. While his father worked to make sure his appearance was all elegance and style, Neal worked just as hard to create a look of casual indifference. He was a bit taller than his father and his hair was darker, but they had the same brown eyes and chiseled features, though Gold would often insist his son was far better looking than him, she knew Neal hadn’t inherited his finer aspects from his absent mother.

            “Hey Belle. When did you get here?”

            “Nearly ten minutes ago,” Gold answered for her, “Didn’t I teach you to never keep a lady waiting?”

            “It’s okay, Mr. Gold,” Belle said, “I really didn’t mind. You were great company.”

            “Yes,” Neal said with a smirk, “I’m sure you enjoyed his company immensely, Belle.”

            Her eyes widened and then she made a point to give him a solid kick to ankle. He let out a yelp, but his smirk never left his face. “We really should go,” Belle said.

            “Yep, Ruby will kill us if we’re late,” Neal agreed.

            Gold nodded. “Be sure to bring Belle home safe and be back by midnight.”

            Neal let out a sigh. “Dad, I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks, don’t you think I’m too old for a curfew?”

            “We’ll discuss that when you’re eighteen.”

            Neal narrowed his eyes at him. “That mean’s no, doesn’t it?”

            Gold grinned. “Well, it appears that school is teaching you something.”

            Belle couldn’t help but laugh at that which earned her a glare from Neal. “Yeah, you would take his side, traitor.”

            She elbowed him in the ribs this time. “We better keep going,” she said and pulled Neal’s jacket sleeve. “I’m going to kill you,” she whispered to him through gritted teeth.

            “You’re no fun, mom,” he replied with a wink. Neal looked back and waved at his dad. “Bye, dad.”

            “No drinking and make sure none of those boys get to rowdy,” Gold reminded him.

            “But that’s how Ruby likes them,” he said. But his father was not amused. “Don’t worry, Belle can handle herself. Besides, Keith and his friends aren’t invited to this party.”

            “Keep it that way.” He gave Belle a nod before she left. She smiled back at him. Neal may have been the one who was going with her, but she knew his dad was always looking out for her. She didn’t bother to pretend the way his smile back at her made her stomach do somersaults.

            When she looked back at Neal, he rolled his eyes at her. “Really?”

            “Just go.” She shoved him from behind, pushing him out the front door. Neal may tease her, but at least he never told her she was foolish to have these feelings. She did that enough on her own. Still, she couldn’t shake them and sometimes, usually when she was alone with Tristand, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a chance. Maybe somewhere down the road, after she had gone to college and Neal had gone off on his grand adventure, maybe there would be something. She was seventeen and life was just full of those possibilities.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think so far? Gold is a bit more woobie in this fic than any of my others which is really different for me. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Next Chapter: Gold meets Liam and the town is a buzz with the rumors upon Gold's return.


	3. Chapter 2: Bound by the Secrets We Share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait. Life got in the way, mainly a week long trip to Disney World. On the plus side, I finally got my Beast plush to go with my Belle. ;-D I hope you all like this chapter. Some more tiptoeing around each other and the town is more than willing to chat about Gold's return. Plus, Cora begins to get suspicious.

            Regina’s first town meeting was scheduled on the Friday. Cora was eager to attend and since he was the primary businessman of the town, Gold knew he had a responsibility to go as well. He’d recognized that seven years ago, but now it was strange walking into that room filled with so many residents of the town. Now he understood how a goldfish felt trapped in a glass prison with everyone watching him.

            He and Cora both took their seats. For once, he would have preferred being in the back, but Cora was insistent on being front and center. It was interesting too look around the place and see what had changed and what hadn’t. The room was still the same and, for the most part, the people too. A few of the old timers had retired but their children ran their businesses now and stood in their stead. Seven years had gone by but Storybrooke was still Storybrooke. It didn’t seem right some how.

            More than one person looked in their direction and then whispered to the person next to them. He knew every newcomer into town was subject to gossip, but really, how exciting could his return actually be?

            Regina walked in carrying two folders and called the town meeting into order. He admired her straightforward attitude. Mayor Blanchard had preferred a more laid back approach to these meetings, trying to be everyone’s friend. It had made him popular with the town, but business was never the order of the day. Regina seemed to know her first priority was to take care of the town before making friends.

            She opened the town meeting by discussing new bylaws that would help promote tourism in the town. Most of Storybrooke’s revenue came from fishing. Regina wanted to encourage more camp grounds and park sites to attract more tourists to the area. More tourists equaled more money, but a far more crowded town. Still, Gold like Regina’s idea. Plus the citizens of Storybrooke would get some enjoyment out of it as well.

            Most of Regina’s measures passed with little opposition. Gold couldn’t help but think how proud Cora must be to see her daughter doing so well on her first real day as mayor. He was envious of that.

            Then Regina opened the floor for discussion if anyone had any problems or suggestions for the town. A few people stood up. Ms. Ginger talked about how there needed to be a sound law in the town so kids couldn’t crank their music up too loud (most tittered at her suggestion). Someone said there were potholes tearing up their tires on Orchard Road. Gold only half listened as they prattled on about mundane problems.

            “Next on our list is Miss French to discuss the town library.”

            Gold’s head snapped up so fast he felt the vertebrae crack. His eyes found Belle three rows back on the opposite side of the room. She stood up and walked forward, carrying a small stack of papers. Her high heels clicked on the floor as she went. The library? She worked there now? Before he’d left the town library had been run by the aging Ms. Franklin who could hardly find north with a compass let alone find the Biography section. The pay wasn’t much, surely Belle deserved a better job than that, no matter how much she loved books.

            It was hard to find the teenager he once knew in the woman who now stood at the front of the room. The Belle he knew had been terrified of giving a speech about the cause and effects of the Civil War because she would have to stand in front of twenty of her classmates. Now the whole town was watching her and yet she didn’t bat an eye. The same amount of years was between them as they had when she was seventeen, but somehow he felt like he had changed little since leaving Storybrooke while she had grown into this confident woman before him.

            “Thank you Mayor Mills,” she said calmly when she began her speech, “I’m sure you know the library has been left on its own for quite some time. The only new inventory added in the past ten years has been from donations by local citizens. I was hoping to ask you to consider an increase to the library’s funding so the library can receive a proper supply of books as well as update the system. We still rely on library cards and a card system to look up books. I would like to include a computer system to make it easier for everyone to find the books they need. This can not only help the locals enjoy their books, but also help the local students obtain better research and learning tools for their school projects.”

            She made a good presentation and it was always a brilliant idea to appeal to the many parents in town who only wanted what was best for their children. It would have been an interesting bit of business for him even if it wasn’t Belle who was the librarian. Gold owned the building, a renovation could increase the value of the property thus give him more income. It was a double edged sword. Increasing the budget and renovating the library would likely lead to more interest in the residents and better productivity; however, the lease would also go up. He doubted Regina would be keen on paying him more money as it was.

            Regina took the proposal, skimming it for a few minutes. “You have done your research, Miss French,” she said.

            “Thank you.”

            “Have you considered less expensive methods of gaining funds, such as a book drive?”

            “Unfortunately, a book drive wouldn’t bring the diversity we need. The shelves are already overflowing with Danielle Steel and Dr. Phil,” Belle said, earning a few laughs from the crowd. “We need more non-fiction books as well as updated encyclopedias and resource materials. Many of our fiction books are also in poor state and need replacing.”

            Regina nodded, but it seemed more out of courtesy than actual interest. “You keep mentioning the students, how they can use the library for research. Why can’t they just use the internet? I would imagine most teenagers would rather go to their computers than the library for school projects.”

            “The internet is not a hundred percent reliable,” Belle told her, “Books are still considered more accurate with material and contain more primary sources.”

            “And you believe a restoration would induce more people to leave their televisions and computers to read a few books?”

            “I would also like to implement more programs besides Storytime on Saturdays for the children,” Belle told her, “We can bring in authors for books signings which could encourage more revenue and tourism like you have been suggesting.”

            Regina nodded again, never a good sign. “All valid points and you have certainly thought this through. However, I have to focus on the more immediate issues of the town such as the repaving of the streets, the installation of a new playground for the children in this town, and renovating the docks to encourage more industry. I’m sorry but the library is just going to have to wait its turn.”

            She finalized her decision with three strokes of her gavel. To her credit, Belle didn’t hang her head in defeat or display a temper. She calmly gathered her papers back into the binder and returned to her seat. Still, there was more a more rigid stance to her shoulders that suggested she was not pleased with the new mayor.

            The businessman in Gold agreed with Regina’s decision, there were more profits to be had in other parts of the town than refurbishing the free library. But his other side, the one he used to be at home with his son and Belle helping them with their economics homework, that side felt Regina was too harsh. He wanted to comfort her, but seven years and one large secret stood between them, reminding him that those days were long gone. So when the town meeting was adjourned he forced himself not to look in her direction. It was better to just forget the man he used to be anyways. There really was no going back, not when that part of him was buried in the local cemetery.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Ruby had never been a babysitter as a teenager. Belle used to occasionally watch the local kids for a few bucks, but Ruby had never been the type a parent would normally trust with their snot-nosed little angel. But Belle’s own kid was different. Not only had Ruby been there since the moment he was born, but Liam was the sweetest kid in the whole world. He was hardly any trouble at all.

            Granny had left Ruby in charge of the diner while attending the town meeting so she’d stuck Liam in a booth with a coloring book, some crayons, and plate of fries if he got hungry. Thankfully it wasn’t busy due to the meeting so it was easy keeping an eye on him while she worked.

            Liam really was a good boy, not that he couldn’t get into trouble when he wanted to, but he never really went looking for it. Despite the giant mess his original existence has been back when Belle first showed her the pregnancy test, Ruby was proud of her best friend for being such a great mom and Liam for being a normal kid. Still, with the recent events of this town she was waiting for the hurricane to hit at any moment.

            Slowly the people at the meeting trickled out and went about their day. Several went to the dinner for a late supper and to discuss the meeting away from prying eyes. Ruby smiled when she saw Belle enter, but it faded when the slump of her friend’s shoulders became apparent. “Uh oh,” she said, “I take it things didn’t go so well.”

            “You can say that again.”

            Liam looked up from his coloring and gave her a big smile. “Mommy! You’re back!”

            Belle smiled back, all of her troubles lifting away in an instant as she slid into the booth and wrapped her son in a hug. “Yes, sweetie. Have you been coloring?”

            “Uh huh. Granny got me a coloring book of monsters.”

            “That’s wonderful.” She stared at the mass of blue and red scribbles like it was a Picasso hanging in the Louvre. “It’s beautiful. We’ll put it on the fridge at home or would you rather give it to Granny to say thank you for the book?”

            “Granny,” Liam said, “She can put it on her fridge.”

            “The cooks will love that,” Ruby said, laughing at the picture in her head. The worst part was Granny would do it. She loved the kid as if he was her own grandson. Well, considering the kids real grandparents he probably was lucky to have a surrogate granny.

            “How about dinner?” Ruby asked.

            “That’s okay, we’ll eat at home,” Belle said.

            “I want chicken nuggets, mommy,” Liam said, “And it’s free ice cream day.”

            It was always free ice cream day for Liam, but he didn’t know that. But Ruby knew the cheap frozen nuggets Belle sometimes popped in the oven for Liam were not the kind of nuggets he was wanting. “All right,” she said, “Chicken nuggets for him and a burger for me. But I’m paying this time.”

            “Okay,” Ruby said. She knew Granny would somehow make sure Belle only paid for a tip, and that was only because Belle never caved to a completely free meal. She was family now and family always got a home cooked meal from Granny.

            “Mommy is going to the bathroom,” Belle told Liam, “You keep coloring. I’m sure Ruby would like one of your drawings too.”

            “Okay!” Liam said.

            “Thanks,” Ruby told her while rolling her eyes. She’ll have to add another mess of color to the ten thousands she already had at home.

            She went to get their drinks, Belle and iced tea and Liam a chocolate milk with a curly straw. She was just placing the drinks on the table when the bell rang. She glanced up and froze. It was Gold.

            What was he doing here? It wasn’t rent day and this really wasn’t his kind of scene. Yeah, she remembered back when she was teenager that occasionally he would come here with Neal for a burger, but she knew it had been Neal who had talked him into it. “Mr. Gold,” she said, “This is a surprise. The rent’s not due for two weeks.”

            “I’m not here for the rent,” he said, “Tonight is the cook’s day off. Cora said she’d placed an order.”

            “Okay, I’ll check on it then.” She went back to the kitchen to ask Tony if the Mill’s order was finished. Apparently Cora had ordered the meatloaf so it would be a few more minutes. Perfect.

            She came back into the diner just as she heard a slight crash. Liam was sitting in his booth, but his plastic cup of chocolate milk was on the floor. The brown liquid had splattered over Gold’s shiny loafers. Even more perfect.

            “Sorry, Mr. Gold, it will be out in a few minutes,” Ruby said.

            “I spilt my milk,” Liam said glumly.

            “It’s okay, honey, I’ll clean it up and get you some more.” That is if Gold didn’t kill them both.

            She grabbed some rags and got on her knees to mop up the mess. “You’re son, I take it,” Gold growled when she stood up.

            “What? No!” she said, “You think I have a kid?”

            “If he’s not yours then who left him unattended?”

            Oh shit.

            Belle’s timing was impeccable as ever. She just had to come out of the bathroom then and stop right by the table. “Is everything okay?”

            “I spilt my milk, mommy,” Liam answered for them. Seeing the shock hit Gold’s face would be a little amusing if Ruby wasn’t completely on edge. She was waiting for it all to click, waiting for the giant fallout.

            “He’s _your_ son?” Gold questioned.

            “Yes,” Belle said calmly, “I went to the restroom for a minute. I’m sorry if he spilt milk on you. I can pay for the dry cleaning if you need me too.”

            Gold shook his head. “No, no it’s fine I’m just…surprised. I thought, I mean he’s not as…”

            “Ruby,” Tony called for the kitchen, “That order’s ready.”

            Apparently there was a God and he had just saved them with meatloaf. Ruby pounced on the large brown paper bag and shoved it towards Mr. Gold. “Here you go, enjoy your meal.”

            She nearly forgot to take the cash he handed her to pay for the whole thing. “Thank you.” He looked back at Belle. “Miss French,” he nodded in goodbye.

            “Mr. Gold,” she said just as stiffly. Even after seven years, it was still weird to see how awkward they were. It used to be Belle would tease Gold about how he would go to school’s fair in his three piece suits.

            The bell chimed again and he was gone. Ruby let out a long sigh. “Okay, that was tense.” She looked over at Belle, “Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine. Can you get Liam some more milk?”

            The milk, right. She hurried back to a kitchen for a fresh cup and gave it to him. There orders were ready too so she brought those as well. She really wanted to talk to Belle about what just happened (or what really _didn’t_ happen) but with Liam and the rest of the diner in earshot, she knew that conversation would just have to wait. Still, why hadn’t Gold questioned it further? The bullet may have been dodged here, but it was still out there. The guy wasn’t stupid, despite the evidence today to the contrary.

            All Ruby knew as she grabbed the tray of Leroy’s chowder soup and beer was that eventually that bullet was going to hit and the results wouldn’t be pretty.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Seven Years Ago_

 

            Gold didn’t want to do this. His duty was done, his son was laid into his grave, now why did he have to go and share a meal with everyone in town like a bit of food would somehow make this day better? But Belle had insisted that he make an appearance, that it would only make everyone worry if he didn’t show. He doubted anyone would care if he went to the wake or not, but Belle forced him along.

            Quite the crowd had gathered at Granny’s for the wake. It was a sea of black suits and dresses. On the counter there was an array of casseroles, cakes, pies, salads, and trays of fried chicken and Granny’s famous meatloaf. Well who knew a funeral was also a feast?

            Belle fixed them both a plate but he ate nothing and she only picked at her food, meanwhile others scarfed it down like it was a food eating contest. Plenty came by to give him their condolences and share stories of their times with Neal. He just stared blankly at them, not saying a word. Stories, food and pity were not going to make him feel better.

            Aside from himself, one other person in the room was also being fawned over. It had been eight years since he’d last seen his ex-wife, Milah. Neal had been ten when she’d moved from Boston to start living on her boyfriend’s yacht. Postcards and the occasional international phone call had replaced the monthly visits she’d used to have with their son. When Neal got older, he would sometimes spend a week with her here and there. She had always preferred to be the adventuress mother, the one who was happy to send him presents from exotic places instead of actually visiting him. It had taken some digging to even find a working phone number to tell her that their son was gone.

            She’d come to the funeral, but she’d brought her lover with her as well. At least she was staying at Granny’s inn. Perhaps some people had expected them to come together in their shared grief, but they were delusional. Milah had left them, left their son when he was still a child. Now she returns only when he was gone. He would never forgive himself for failing to protect his son, but he would never forgive her for abandoning him when he was still alive.

            Now she sat in a corner booth surrounded by _his_ town-mates who were handing her tissues and patting her hand. Killian Jones was at her side, munching on the food and giving her shoulders the occasional squeeze. It was the first time she’d been back to Storybrooke in over a decade and yet she was already accepted back into the fold. Meanwhile Gold sat at one table with only Belle for company.

            “He was such a sweet little boy,” Milah said as tears rolled down her cheeks, “I remember when he was three and he wanted me to sleep in his room because he knew ‘mommies keep the monsters away’.”

            Yes. Meanwhile Gold remembered how she’d refused to sleep on the floor since Neal’s racecar bed was too small for the both of them. Instead he and Neal had built a tent out of blankets in the living room while ‘mommy’ slept in the master bedroom.

            “I used to send him postcards of all the places I went to and he’d ask me when he could come. He wanted to go on adventures to.”

            Funny how she never said when he could go.

            “He was my special boy,” Milah said while dabbing at her eyes. “Maybe if I had been here none of this would have happened. I should have demanded more visitation rights.”

            “Milah, you know it’s not your fault,” Killian said as she once more began to sob, “Just because some judge sided with your ex doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother.”

            It was getting too much to swallow. What about all the times she put off her visitation? All of the disappointed hopes of his young son whenever his mother said, “Not this time sweetie. Maybe next month.”

            “That doesn’t matter,” Milah said, “a boy needs his mother.”

            There were a lot of murmurs of agreement and sympathetic nods. Then when Milah burst out in another loud gust of tears, six people produced handkerchiefs. It was too much.

            Gold leapt to his feet, the movement jarring his bad leg painfully but he didn’t care. He strode out of the diner, no doubt leaving everyone questioning him while Milah lavished in her circle of attention. He didn’t care. She could have the town and everyone with it.

            “Mr. Gold! Wait!”

            It was Belle. What was she doing? She should be in there with the comfort of her friends where she belonged, not following an old, childless divorcée out into the frigid March air. He didn’t slow down, but she still managed to catch up and wound her arm with his.

            “Let’s go home,” she said softly.

            He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have the heart to push her away. Right now, she was all he had left in the world that meant something to him, even if she was a reminder of his dead son. It was better to have one true mourner who cared, then a thousand other trying to fix the pain with food and tissues. Belle knew just the simple warmth of one person was enough.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Cora wanted to explore the town since she’d been away for so long and she refused to go without Gold. She’d even planned for her Aramani dress to match his tie for the occasion. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but despite the fact that very little had changed in the town since Cora had left, she still wanted to see it.

            So he played her tour guide, letting her explore the three new shops that had sprung up in her absence. The only new store he found for himself was an ice cream shop, though this was not surprising since he’d set up the lease contract two years ago in L.A. Cora made a point with talking to everyone, chatting about Regina’s success and their future wedding plans. He knew this was Cora’s way to get to the know the town and pave the way for her daughter (and perhaps to gloat a little) but he would have much rather been at home or in his shop. He was hoping that this trip would wind down soon. There was a minor case he was considering taking and he wanted to get a good look at it.

            “Sarah! Darling, how good to see you!” Cora called out in delight when Ms. Ginger came out of the clerk’s office.

            “Cora, I was hoping to run into you soon.” They gave each other a kiss on each cheek as if they were meeting in Paris and not on Main Street. This was Cora though, as pretentious as it was, he knew she liked to show off her status quo. He couldn’t exactly fault her for that since he’d been wearing three piece suits ever since he made his first million.

            “Mr. Gold,” Ms. Ginger said without a handshake or a kiss (thank God), “You’re looking well.”

            “Thank you,” he said coolly.

            “It’s so exciting having you both back in town,” she said.

            “Have things been so dreadfully dull here?” Cora asked.

            Ms. Ginger “hmmed” and her eyes sparkled with new delight. “I wouldn’t say dull. Certainly you’ve heard about that school teacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

            “No, I haven’t.”

            “Well, apparently she has been having an affair with David Nolan, he runs the animal shelter now.”

            Now this was news to Gold. “I thought he married Midas’s daughter,” he said. The sickeningly sweet couple had wed just out of high school, two years before Neal died.

            “Oh yes, Kathryn,” Ms. Ginger said, “The poor woman actually marched over to the school and slapped Mary Margaret across the face.”

            “No!” Cora crowed with delight. Gold started scanning the streets around them for something of interest. Oh he didn’t mind gossip all that much, but secret affairs were really none of his business unless he could use that information somehow. Besides, was it really all that surprising that two teenagers who got married out of high school would split? Honestly, it was more surprising that their marriage lasted as long as it did.

            “Oh yes. Now she and Mr. Nolan are living together.”

            “And Kathryn?”

            “Oh she says she’s forgiven them. She’s seeing that gym teacher now.” Ms. Ginger continued to grin. “Still, it was the talk of the town for weeks. It was almost as notorious as what happened with the florist’s daughter.”

            Gold snapped his attention away from the two boys playing basketball in the alley and back to the president of the Storybrooke Gossip Society. “Belle? What are you talking about?”

            Ms. Ginger stared at him with a quizzical look behind her round glasses. “I thought you knew.”

            “Knew what?”

            “It was quite the story,” she said, “Even though it happened after you left, I still thought your might have known. She got pregnant in high school.”

            It wasn’t shocking news for him. He’d seen her boy, he knew that Belle must had had him when she was still in her teens. What did strike him was what she must have endured. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was stuck in a town full of judgmental prejudices and gossips. It couldn’t have been easy being a single teen mother.

            Anger coursed through him, at the Ms. Ginger, the town, even Moe French. Her father should have protected her. But he could still remember all the times Belle came over to their house for dinner or just to get away from her father’s drunkenness and reckless gambling. Poor girl.

            “I must say, I’m still surprised you had no idea,” Ms. Ginger said, “After all, she and Neal were so close.”

            Cora lifted one dark brow. “Were they?”

            “Oh yes,” Ms. Ginger continued, “Why Belle practically lived with them it seemed.”

            “I wouldn’t say that,” he told her. The look Cora was giving him could have frozen fire.

            “How interesting,” she said, never taking her eyes off of him, “It was lovely catching up with you again, Sarah. We’ll have to have lunch together soon.”

            “That would be wonderful.”

            “Now we really must be going,” Cora told her, “Tristan and I have an important matter to see to.”

            “Of course. We’ll talk later,” Ms. Ginger said.

            “Of course.”

            Cora kept a vice grip on his arm as they strolled away. Appearances mattered in a small town like this. Once Ms. Ginger was out of sight she stopped him, her dark eyes pinning him on the spot. “You lied to me,” she stated.

            “It wasn’t a lie.”

            “You said you barely knew her.”

            “And I didn’t,” he insisted.

            “You barely knew a girl you let stay at your own house?”

            “She was Neal’s friend,” Gold said, his voice unable to keep from cracking over his son’s name, “I did know her, but we weren’t close. She was seventeen, Cora, we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”

            Cora nodded, the fire in her eyes receding just a bit. “She was close to Neal,” she said, “Were they in a relationship?”

            “I don’t know,” he said truthfully, “I suspected, but Neal never told me.”

            Cora let out a small laugh. “I remember when Regina had a crush on her riding instructor. She never said a word, I had to investigate it on my own.” She smiled at him softly and then stroked his face. “I’m sorry, Tristan, I know I can be a bit jealous at times. We were apart for so long, I keep expecting to find your former lovers at every turn.”

            “I’m hardly the Lothario you seem to think I am,” he told her.

            “I know,” she admitted, giving him a sheepish look, “Still, you don’t have an secret rendezvous from before, do you? I won’t be angry, I just want to know so that way I can put it all behind me.”

            He hoped she didn’t notice his flinch. His gaze flickered in the direction of the library, sitting just a head of them. If he had seen her then he might have confessed all. Thankfully, she made no appearance. So he put on his most disarming smile and shook his head at Cora. “No, there is nothing to tell.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            The library had always been one of Belle’s favorite places in Storybrooke. Whenever things were bad or she felt down about herself, she could always go to this place and find a book that would cheer her up. Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Eyre, Edmond Dantes, and Tom Sawyer had all been her dear friends whenever she needed to find an escape. She had been thrilled when the vacancy at the library had opened. Getting the job had been easy, partly because of her ideas and love for the place, but mostly because she was the only one that applied.

            The hours were good, the money wasn’t as much as she’d hoped, but she was getting by. At least she was able to be home for dinner with Liam almost every night. It wasn’t hard work at the library, but still she was disappointed that the new mayor hadn’t taken her claims seriously. Well, she wasn’t giving up yet. She already had a meeting set up tomorrow evening with Mayor Mills to once again discuss her plans for the library.

            Mrs. Lowell came by to find a new romance novel, careful to take one of the paper bags Belle offered for the townspeople to put books inside. It wouldn’t do for the wife of the town’s treasurer to be seen with a bodice ripper. It was funny to know some of the secrets in this town. Some were harmless such as Dr. Hopper who had a fascination with entomology, others like the Billy the mechanic had a soft spot for Nicholas Sparks, meanwhile Mother Superior would often sneak in _Fifty Shades of Grey_ between two religious texts. But they all knew their secrets were safe with Belle. What happened in the library, stayed in the library.

            At two the kindergarten class would show up for story hour so Belle was arranging everything. She brought out the beanbag chairs and oversized pillows for the kids to lounge on. She also cleaned up the table and started a pot of coffee for the adults. The teachers would bring cookies and juice for the kids to snack on.

            She brought a selection of books for the teachers to choose from for the story hour. She always liked to let the kids make the final selection though. Belle also took the jar of lollipops behind the counter so the kids could have another treat before they left. She was stacking up Styrofoam cups when the bell above the door rang to announce a visitor. It wasn’t the gaggle of five year olds she was expecting.

            Cora Mills was wearing a smart blue dress with a burgundy jacket and matching pumps. Belle guessed the whole outfit cost twice than her paycheck, maybe even triple. On her left hand was a sparkling diamond ring, the largest Belle had ever seen. She refused to look at it again.

            “Hello, Mrs. Mills,” she greeted her, “Can I help you with anything?”

            “Yes, I believe you can.”

            “Well, I have a table over here that has my personal recommendations.” She gestured to a little table at the front that was stacked high with books of multiple genres.

            “I’m not here for a book,” Cora told her.

            “Oh,” Belle blinked at her, “then how can I help you?”

            “For starters, you can tell me about your former association with Tristan Gold.”

            Belle felt the blood drain from her face. Oh God, did she know? Why would he tell her that? Had he figured it out? Was that why she was here? Belle could feel her heart hammering against her ribs, her fingers tingling. “Wha—what do you mean?”

            “I’m just trying to figure out how well you knew Tristan before,” Cora said, “He told me you were friends with Neal.”

            “Yes,” Belle said, “Yes I was.”

            “And you were friends with Tristan?”

            “I suppose,” she said, frowning a bit. What game was she playing with her? Well, she knew a thing or two about Cora.

            “He told me before that he barely knew you,” Cora said, “yet I hear you spent a lot of time at his home.”

            “Neal and I were friends, that’s hardly surprising.”

            “Yet it seems you two can barely stand to be in the same room together,” Cora said, “Nor can I take two steps in this town without hearing your names together.”

            “I hardly doubt that’s true,” Belle said. There was gossip to be sure, but it was doubtful anyone would say anything to Cora’s face. Besides, they didn’t know the whole truth.

            “The other day at the pharmacy, you and Tristan could hardly look at each other,” Cora said, “Why is that? Considering you two knew each other before, why would you not be glad to see one another again after so long?”

            She was fishing, but she was also smart. Belle couldn’t let her see anything, not how she felt. She forced her fear and doubt down, down, down, and could only hope it would be enough. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

            “Mr. Gold and I shared a loss,” she told Cora, “we both cared for Neal a great deal. Seeing each other again, well it isn’t easy.”

            “It’s been seven years,” Cora said, “Surely you have recovered from your loss. I mean, obviously you found someone else.”

            Belle blinked at her again. “I—what?”

            “From what I hear, you moved on rather quickly once Neal was in the ground.”

            Belle felt her heart race again, but this time it wasn’t fueled by fear. Her eyes narrowed at Cora and she stood to her full height, even if it wouldn’t match the woman before her. “Neal told me about you once,” Belle said, “So far, I would say he was accurate.”

            Cora quirked one dark brow. “Well, his opinion hardly matters now, does it?”

            “You have a very cavalier attitude about Neal considering he is your fiancé’s late son,” Belle stated, not even bothering to hide her disdain.

            “And aren’t you the little hypocrite,” Cora replied. Her dark eyes looked almost black but they burned in Belle’s direction. “I don’t care that you let some teenage boy paw at you as soon as your boyfriend was dead. I don’t know what happened between you and Tristan, but stay out of my way. He is mine now.”

            “Funny, but I thought owning someone was illegal in this country,” Belle said.

            “Don’t toy with me, darling, you have no idea what I could do to you.”

            Belle just shook her head at her. “You are wasting your time here. I’m not trying to take _Tristan_ from you,” she hissed out his name, “and my past is my business. Now I think we are done here.”

            She stalked past Cora and yanked the door open. “Please leave.”

            Cora’s high heels clicked against the wood floors as she made her way to the exit. She stopped in front of Belle, her eyes flickering from her toes to and then back to her face. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Cora said.

            “Neither do you,” Belle told her and then shut the door behind her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Eight Years Ago_

 

            “Who freaking cares about the Industrial Revolution?” Neal griped for the fifth time. Belle rolled her eyes and tried to turn her attention back to her history textbook. They had a killer test tomorrow and they were supposed to be studying, though Neal’s version consisted of complaining every ten minutes or so.

            “I mean, why do we have to learn about the cotton gin? I’m not a farmer. I won’t be using one of those. And the printing press? Hello, we have computers now. And I don’t think I’ll be trading my cellphone for a telegraph.”

            “Neal, it’s not about knowing them so we could use them,” Belle told him without glancing up from her page, “It’s knowing the building blocks for how all of our technology today started.”

            “Who cares? History is stupid. It doesn’t teach us anything.”

            “I wouldn’t say that.”

            Belle gasped, finally looking up from her book to see Mr. Gold standing in the door way. She knew her cheeks were blooming just because he happened to look at her. Still, she couldn’t look away. He’d taken off his jacket and his tie was loosened. This was about as casual as she’d ever seen him and still he managed to make himself look like he belonged at a gentleman’s club.

            “History is meant to teach us the mistakes of the past so we don’t make them in the future,” Gold said.

            “So if I didn’t learn about Henry VIII I might chop of my wife’s head?” Neal quipped. Belle couldn’t resist giggling.

            “The stock market crash,” Gold pointed out, “We learned a lot from that, we learned how to avoid suck a catastrophe again. History teaches us how to shape our future, it also teaches us who built our future.”

            “Yeah, but does it have to be so boring?”

            Belle rolled her eyes again. “It can’t all be wars and mass destruction, Neal.”

            “World War II is way more interesting than learning about Thomas Edison.”

            “Remember that the next time you flip your light switch,” Belle replied.

            Mr. Gold let out a chuckle and she blushed again. “Belle, are you staying for dinner?”

            “Um…” it was so hard to think when he looked at her like that, she always got lost in those dark brown eyes with the flecks of amber. “I…I don’t want to be in the way.”

            “You never could me, dear,” he said, “We have more than enough for three. I have to cook for six because Neal eats like a bear in the spring.” She giggled again but Neal only glared at them both.

            “Okay,” she said. It wasn’t like her father would miss her anyways.

            “Wonderful,” he said warmly. Her stomach did a little flip when he smiled at her. “I’ll leave you two to your studying.”

            “Do you have that chart about the inventions?” Neal asked her once his father had left, “I can’t find mine.”

            Belle didn’t listen to him. She was watching as his father walked towards his study. He did have a limp and cane, but somehow he managed to walk gracefully despite it all. Certainly more than she who tripped over every crack in the sidewalk.

            “Hello? Earth to Belle? Belle?”

            “Oh,” she shook her head and then looked back at her book, “Sorry, what was it Neal?”

            “The chart about the inventions? Do you have it?”

            “Yeah.” She fumbled around in her folder before pulling out one sheet of paper. “Here you go.”

            “Thanks.” He studied the chart for a bit, his forehead crinkling in concentration just like his father did.

            She tried to focus back on her history text, but her eyes kept glancing towards the study. Was he doing business in there? How lonely it must be for him to closet himself off. Maybe next time she could ask him to join them. Of course that would be stupid since she blushed every time he looked at her.

            She needed to get him out of her system, then she could get back to her studying. An innocent question or two wouldn’t hurt and then she’d be fine.

            “Hey Neal?”

            “Yeah?” he asked her.

            “Why does your dad wear suits all the time?”

            “I don’t know,” Neal said with a shrug, “He just does.”

            “He doesn’t have any casual clothes?”

            “I think he might have a pair of jeans in his closet somewhere,” Neal said, “He used to dress down a bit when I was younger, but Cora got him to wear the suits all the time and he never stopped.”

            Belle’s heart stopped. “Cora?” she said quietly, “Who is that?”

            “His ex-girlfriend. They dated for like a year when I was ten.”

            Belle knew the sting she felt in the center of her heart was irrational. Whoever this woman was, they hadn’t seen each other in years. Yet…it still ached inside the thought of him with another woman, and older, more experienced woman.

            “And she got him to wear the suits?” she asked.

            “Yeah,” Neal put his notebook down and cracked his neck to the side to release some knots. “I think she liked him all dressed up, but he liked it too, gave him a sense of authority or something.”

            “Oh,” that made sense and it didn’t necessarily mean he still carried a torch for her. “Who was she? Does she still live here?”

            “No, she’s Cora Mills, the senator’s wife.”

            Belle gaped at him. “Senator Henry Mill’s? But wait, how could she have dated your dad if she was married?”

            “I think they were separated or something,” Neal said, “I mean I was ten, I didn’t really ask about the details. I didn’t really think she wanted me around. She always had me and Regina go off somewhere whenever she was with my dad.”

            “Regina?”

            “Her daughter. Regina was a few years older than me so we didn’t really hang out that much. We both knew Cora just didn’t want us in the way.”

            Belle frowned at him. She could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers clenched just a bit. “You don’t sound fond of her.”

            “I wasn’t,” he admitted, “My mom wasn’t ever around so I was actually excited when my dad started dating again, but Cora was worse than my mom. My mom may not want to be a mother, but at least she could be warm. Cora is just…heartless,” he said after a bit of thought, “She never showed much affection even to Regina. She always seemed to have an agenda, at least she was like that whenever my dad wasn’t around.”

            “You think she was just using your dad?” Belle asked.

            “I think she uses everybody,” Neal told her, “I was glad when she left. My dad was brokenhearted for a little while, but I don’t think he’s even spoken to her in years.”

            Belle glanced back at the closed door to the study. She may have been glad to hear that he and Cora were no longer an item, but she hated the idea of him being heartbroken. It seemed Tristan Gold had never been lucky in love.

            “Has your dad had any girlfriends since then?”

            “No,” Neal said, “I think he’s decided he’s better off alone.”

            “Do you think that?”

            Neal pursed his lips a bit and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe if he met someone who was actually good for him, who didn’t care about his money or anything, not to mention could hold up against his temper. Yeah, if he could find someone like that, then I think he’d actually have a shot.”

            Belle looked back at the door, smiling just a bit. “I think there is someone for everyone.”

            “Please don’t start talking about soul mates and crap like that,” Neal said, “I got enough of that from that chick flick you made me watch last Saturday.”

            “It’s not my fault _Casino Royale_ was sold out,” she argued.

            “You made us late because you were talking to my dad about books again.”

            “That’s because you were taking too long getting your hair ready.”

            Their studying dissolved once again into a playful bickering match until Mr. Gold returned to tell them dinner would be ready. Belle didn’t care that they didn’t get much studying done. Getting to debate Mr. Gold about Milton’s _Paradise Lost_ and Dante’s _Inferno_ made it all worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Belle and Cora have squared each other off and Gold has seen Liam in person. How long do you think before the truth comes out? Even better, what exactly is the truth here? Please review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Next Chapter: Upon seeing Belle's living situation, Gold tries to figure out what happened to her after he left, mainly who the father of her son could be. Meanwhile, Cora starts digging into Belle's past on her own starts to worry about what she finds. Seven years ago, Gold reaches a dark place after the loss of his son and does something he never thought he would do.


	4. Chapter 3: Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon seeing Belle's living situation, Gold tries to figure out what happened to her after he left, mainly who the father of her son could be. Meanwhile, Cora starts digging into Belle's past on her own starts to worry about what she finds. Seven years ago, Gold reaches a dark place after the loss of his son and does something he never thought he would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Moving, the holidays, getting ill, and Rumbelle Secret Santa on tumblr got in the way. But here is a shiny, new, extra loooooong chapter as compensation. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> WARNING: The final scene of this chapter contains smut and triggers of attempted suicide.

Chapter 3: Shame

 

            Despite his law degree and numerous real estate holdings in Storybrooke and Los Angeles, Gold’s passion was for his antiques. His little shop was not his most lucrative business, but it was his favorite which is why he kept it up even after he left.

            He’d forgotten how much he’d missed this work until he was back in his shop. He liked restoring antiques, tinkering with old clocks and the like. It took immense concentration and always helped him to forget his troubles, his life, even the time. Which is why it wasn’t until eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night that he realized he should have been home hours ago. Cora would not be pleased.

            The day had been grey, but not enough for the clouds to release their burden. Now he could hear the soft rumble of thunder as he locked up his shop. The rain came crashing down just as he slid into his car. It wasn’t a gentle drizzle, more like a gushing of fresh water. Hopefully it would pass soon enough or there could be flooding.

            He had to put his wipers up to max in order to make his way down the street. It was late so there were no other cars. It was when he stopped at a red light on Cherry Street that he saw a figure holding a purse above her head as she ran towards the shelter of the awning over the drugstore. Her purse was no umbrella judging by the state of her coat. Her hair was arranged in messy up-do that was probably quite fetching when she wasn’t completely drenched. She lowered her useless shield in order to try and retain some warmth in her wet coat.

            The light turned green, but he didn’t move. It was Belle, standing there with rain plastering her coat to her body. What was she doing out at eleven at night? The coat covered up her clothes which meant she was wearing something short and probably sexy. Had she been on a date? If that was the case, whoever took her out deserved a raise in their rent to leave her stranded in the middle of a downpour.

            He rolled down the window, rain splattering across his face. “Belle?”

            “Mr. Gold?” she called over the thunder.

            “Do you need a lift?”

            Belle looked at the car and then shook her head. “I’m fine. It will pass soon.”

            “You’ll drown if you stay out here much longer,” he replied.

            “It’s just a little rain,” she said. Just then a fork of lightening cut across the sky followed by a loud crash of thunder that shook his car. Belle let out a yelp and quickly ran to the passenger side, yanked the door open and plopped down onto the seat in a wet heap.

            “What happened to waiting?” he asked her.

            “What happened to driving?” she countered.

            “Fair enough.” He took the car out of park and started moving again. “You still live on Wingate?”

            Belle shook her head, “Eighty-nine South Bay Street.”

            Gold’s eyes widened. “Bay Street? Why are you there? There is nothing but small apartments and cheap liquor stores. Surely you’d be more comfortable at your father’s.”

            “He kicked me out,” Belle said.

            “Why?” She looked at him with a speaking glance. “Oh,” he said sheepishly.

            They sat in silence for a few moments. She tried straightening out her water-logged coat which reminded him of her less than fully clothed attire. “Were you on a date?”

            Belle frowned at him. “Why should that matter to you?”

            “I…it…I was just wondering why you were out so late.”

            “Well I wasn’t on a date,” Belle said, “I bartend at The Rabbit Hole three nights a week. Donny likes for me to dress the part.”

            “Bartending? Why would you need to do that?”

            “Because making kids is cheap, raising them isn’t.”

            Gold thought back to when he was twenty-one, balancing work, college, and a newborn. Not to mention his years in law school all the while trying to feed and clothe a young child. Kids were expensive, no doubt about that.

            “Do you need any help?” he asked her.

            “Help?”

            “I’m happy to lend you some money or—.”

            “No,” she cut him off quickly, “I don’t need that, but thank you.”

            “Belle,” he said her name quietly, “I just want to help if I can.”

            “You’re driving me home, that’s more than enough.”

            “I just…” he wasn’t entirely sure what to say at first, then the question he’d been wanting ask ever since he first saw her boy came out, “What happened, Belle?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I just find it hard to believe that you would…that you would get pregnant at seventeen.”

            Belle looked down at her lap, shaking her head just a bit. There was small sound, a tiny laugh, that came out before she covered her hand with her mouth.

            “What is it?” he asked.

            “Nothing,” she said, some laughter still in her voice, “nothing at all.”

            “I’m serious,” he said, “You were the brightest girl I knew, you had dreams, a future. What happened?”

            “I don’t know,” Belle said coolly, “Maybe my best friend died and I was left alone to deal with the fallout because the only person who could understand and help me ran away.”

            It was irresponsible, but he shut his eyes for just a second as he digested what she’d just said. That hadn’t occurred to him. Belle had always had friends, people who loved her. But she and Neal had always been close. They’d both been shattered when he was gone, but he knew Belle’s life wasn’t over because of it. She would hurt, but she would also move on. She was supposed to move out of Storybrooke, go to college, take the world by storm. Had Neal’s loss really been so great that she’d made a mistake that wound up costing her those dreams? Maybe if he’d been here, things would have been different. That could also explain why she was so cold to him. Granted, what had happened…well he deserved her derision there as well.

            “I’m sorry I never called you back,” he said quietly.

            “You remember?” she questioned.

            “I know you called me a few times after I left,” he said, “but I thought it would be better for both of us if we just…”

            “It’s in the past,” Belle said, “A lot has changed since then. I had a son, you got engaged, there is no sense in talking about what happened.”

            “But if it’s because of me leaving…”

            “It wasn’t,” Belle told him.

            “Belle.”

            “Turn here,” she directed instead.

            He did as he instructed, but he wasn’t done with talking to her about this. Since her father apparently hadn’t been there to help her then or now, he had the resources and the desire to do something. “What about the father?”

            Belle didn’t say anything.

            “Is he involved?”

            She stared out the window, then shook her head a little. “He left before Liam was born.”

            “Who is—.”

            “Stop here,” she told him. He did as he was told, parking just into front of a ratty brick building with the only sign of life being a scraggly tree, bending in the hard wind the storm was cooking up. He knew this building. It held only one bedroom apartments, primarily designed for sailors or the other loners in town. Belle lived here? With her son? Maybe it was all she could afford, but she deserved something better.

            “Thank you for the ride,” she said.

            “Belle, if there is anything you need—.” She was already out of the car and slamming the door closed. He sat there in idle as she walked into the building, not once looking back at him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            The ride he’d given to Belle still weighed heavily on Gold’s mind. He didn’t have any more answers as to what had happened to her seven years ago, but more questions and more guilt. He knew he had something to with it. Doing what he’d done to her and then leaving like that…she must have been hurt and turned to someone to comfort her, the wrong someone.

            He tried to push it out of his mind by making a run to the cabin he owned out in the woods by the lake. He often brought spare antiques there, either in the basement or in the shed out back. Usually these pieces were in need of restoration and he left them there until he had the time to get a better look at them. He hadn’t been back to the cabin since before Neal died, though Dove had been back every now and then to keep the place tidy.

            He had bought the place because he had wanted a retreat for him and Neal, a place for them to get away for a weekend but not too far away from home should anything go wrong, a place for them to go fishing (though they both discovered they hated that hobby) or just to explore the woods a bit. As Neal got older, he wanted to either stay home or go someplace a bit more adventuresome than the cabin so it had turned into a storage facility.

            There had been a few good sales recently so Gold had gone to see what he could bring back with him. Dove had done a good job making sure nothing rotted or rusted. He selected several smaller items to load up into his trunk. Another time he could get Dove and the truck up here to load up some larger items.

            He almost didn’t venture into the cabin itself, but found the longing too great. It was more cluttered than it used to be and the kitchen wad bare of any food, but there was plenty nostalgia left for him to remember those times when he used to come here with Neal. It had always been special, even if they hated fishing. They would play board games, go hiking on woods, and Neal had loved to swim in the lake. This had been a place for just them, before the years and pressures had changed them both. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear his beloved boy’s laughter as he bested his father at checkers.

            The memories were choking him again, squeezing the organ in his chest so hard it would burst if he didn’t leave soon. He beat a path for the door, slamming it closed and locking it behind him. He stood there in the fresh afternoon sun, gulping in air to calm the beating in his chest. This wouldn’t be happening if he was back in L.A.

            The sound of twig snapping stole his attention away from his anxiety attack. He turned to the left in the direction of the woods and stopped. Neal stood at the corner of the shed, one hand resting on the wall, and stared back at him. His beautiful boy, just a child again, staring at him with that curious shine to his brown eyes.

            “Neal?” he gasped out. How was this possible? His son was gone. Had he finally teetered over the edge of madness?

            Gold took a few steps closer, his arms reaching out for his son, then stopped. It wasn’t Neal who stood there, now looking at him with frightened eyes. Neal’s hair hadn’t been curly like that and it was darker. This wasn’t his son, this was Belle’s. It was Liam who stood there.

            “Hello,” he said calmly, hoping to put the boy at ease. Many questions came to mind: what was he doing here? Where was Belle? How did he get here? Was he hurt? But he didn’t ask any of them.

            “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Liam said. His tiny body was tense, like a bird poised to fly away at the first sign of danger. The bottom of his jeans were wet as were the sleeves of his shirt with some picture of a cartoon sponge on it.

            “That’s very smart,” Gold told him. He pointed at himself and said, “I’m Mr. Gold. I knew your mother a long time ago.”

            “You know my mommy?”

            “Yes,” Gold said with a nod, “And I know you’re Liam. Now we’re not strangers, are we?”

            “I guess not,” he said, “but why did you call me Neal?”

            “Did I?” he tried to backpedal on that question. The boy didn’t need to think he was insane, that wouldn’t help the situation at all.

            “Yeah,” he replied, “Did mommy tell you my middle name?”

            “You—your what?”

            “My middle name,” Liam said, “Liam Neal French. Mommy said she named me after her friend she visits every Sunday at the churchyard.”

            Neal. Belle had given her son Neal’s name. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand it was wonderful to know that she hadn’t forgotten about his son, on the other it hurt knowing that he would have to think of Neal whenever he happened to see her child. The rest of Liam’s words hit him slowly. Belle went to the churchyard every Sunday? He hadn’t had the courage to go there yet. It was nice to know Belle didn’t have that weakness and still remembered to visit his son even after all of this time.

            He blinked several times to clear the moisture gathering in his eyes. It wouldn’t do now to cry, that would undoubtedly frighten and confuse the lad even more. “What,” he stopped to clear his throat, “What are you doing here, Liam? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

            “We’re on a nature hike,” Liam told him cheerfully.

            “Oh, that sounds like fun.”

            “It is. We were at this creek and we were having lunch before we were going to finish the scavenger hunt. I saw this really big frog. It was cool.”

             “A frog,” Gold repeated, smiling a little, “And did you try to catch this frog?”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Well that explains why your clothes are wet,” he said, “And I take it after a while you looked around and realize you couldn’t find your class.”

            “Yes,” Liam said, softer this time.

            “Were you scared?”

            “A little. I followed the water and then I saw this place. I thought maybe I could find a phone and call my mommy, or Graham. Mommy told me if I was ever scared and alone that I could call Graham and he would help me.”

            Humbert Graham, the deputy now sheriff of Storybrooke since Sheriff Flynn had retired and moved to New Jersey to be with his son. It was Graham who had come to his door to tell him he needed to come to the hospital and identify Neal from the car accident. Belle had been friendly with Graham when she was teenager, often volunteering with him at the animal shelter. How friendly were they now?

            “Well how long have you been separated from your class?” Gold asked him.

            “I don’t know.”

            He pursed his lips for a minute, drumming his fingers on his cane. “Have you ever seen a Bugs Bunny cartoon?”

            Liam nodded eagerly. “He’s so funny! He always gets away from the hunter.”

            “Yes he does. Well have you been gone longer than one of those cartoons?”

            The boy considered this for a moment. “Longer.”

            “Then I’m sure they’re looking for you. I doubt you could have wandered too far from them. We’ll look around for a bit and if we can’t find them then I’ll phone the sheriff.”

            Liam nodded at that. The boy started walking along side of him, not trying to take his hand, but not afraid to stick close either. “You talk funny.” the boy said without any hesitation.

            “I’m not from here,” Gold told him.

            “You’re not from Storybrooke?”

            “Yes and no,” Gold said, “I lived here many years ago and just returned. But I’m actually from Scotland.”

            “Where’s that?”

            “Across the ocean.”

            “Oh, that’s far,” Liam voiced, “What is Scotland like?”

            “Not dissimilar from here,” Gold said, “Rainy, cold, but with more hills.”

            “Why did you leave?”

            Gold smiled a little. “You are a curious little thing, aren’t you?”

            “Ruby says I’m like a chipmunk. She says it may be my spirit animal.”

            “Well, that’s better than a snail,” Gold replied. He smirked at the memory of all those years ago when he talked to Belle before Ruby’s party.

            “Snails leave a trail of slime,” Liam said.

            “That’s right.”

            “I think that’s cool,” he said.

            “Yes, I suppose,” Gold said, “though they are unsanitary as well.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “They are dirty.”

            “Oh, but that’s what makes them cool.”

            Gold couldn’t help but chuckle. Liam was like most boys, eager to play in the dirt and make mischief. Neal had been similar at his age, though perhaps a little more reserved. Neal had been somewhat shy as a boy, until the divorce and they’d moved to Storybrooke. He’d really blossomed here. Liam hadn’t spent these early years in a divided home, he was cheerful and inquisitive like any normal child.

            He knew the way to the more commonly trekked trails and assumed the school would stick to those routes. Sure enough, he could hear someone calling out Liam’s name. “Miss Blanchard!” Liam called after the voice.

            A young woman stumbled out of the woods. Mary Margaret Blanchard had black hair cut short into a pixie cut and was dressed in a plain button down cardigan with a knee length skirt. She didn’t look like a traditional home wrecker, at least not to the degree Ms. Ginger had implied. While Gold understood all to well the effects an affair could have on a marriage, he also knew more often it was symptom of a larger problem, in his case the incompatibility of his relationship with Milah. Besides, he certainly was no saint so judging her would do him no good.

            Miss Blanchard’s whole body sighed with relief when she saw Liam. “Liam! Thank God! Are you all right?” She ran up to hug the boy and then pat him down for any sign of injury.

            “I’m fine,” he said, “I saw a frog and I went to catch him and show him to Grace, but then I got lost.”

            “Oh dear, you have to remember to stay with your buddy,” she told him, “I’m glad you’re all right.”

            She finally turned her attention away from Liam, though she kept one hand on his shoulder, and looked at Gold. “Thank you for finding him, Mr…?”

            “Gold,” he answered, “He found my cabin back there.”

            “That’s good, I’m glad he found someone who could help.”

            “Why wasn’t anyone watching him?” he questioned.

            “I’m afraid we’re low on volunteers,” Mary Margaret explained, “We have three parents with us and twenty kids. That’s why we implemented a buddy system.”

            “Well it appears there was a flaw in that system.”

            “I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she said, “It won’t happen again.”

            “It better not.”

            “I understand your concern,” she said calmly, “I do hope you know that we do put the children’s safety above everything. Perhaps next time you can volunteer with the other parents.”

            “I’m not his parent,” Gold said, “Just a concerned citizen.”

            “Oh,” Mary Margaret said softly, “Well it’s very kind of you to be concerned.”

            He knew what she was really saying, ‘it’s not your right, you have no involvement in this.’ She wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t a parent, he wasn’t anything, just a man. His son was dead. Liam may remind him of Neal and stirred up some of his parental instincts, but that didn’t make him a father. He wasn’t one anymore.

            There was the crackling sound of branches before children began to pile out of the woods, many screeching when they caught sight of Liam, no doubt afraid Sasquatch had gotten him. The adults Mary Margaret mentioned weren’t far behind, but he only recognized one.

            Jefferson Madden was one of the few residents in Storybrooke who did not owe Gold any money or rent. He came from old money, the Madden Hat and Clothing company that began back into the twenties. His father had purchased the mansion at the end of the highway, not far from the only road out of Storybrooke many years ago but rarely stayed there. Jefferson had moved there with his new bride and baby daughter not long before Gold had left, choosing to raise their child in a slice of Americana rather than the big city.

            The little girl at his side had to be his daughter, Grace. She looked like her mother, at least as much as Gold could remember of her mother. He never knew the Maddens all that well since they had their own money and never needed him for any legal matters either.

            Liam broke free of Mary Margaret’s slight hold to run towards Jefferson. He quickly wrapped Liam into a hug and ruffled his hair. “We were wondering what happened to you, Liam. What trouble did you get into this time?”

            “I tried to catch a frog,” he said, “but he got away.”

            “Oh well, maybe next time.”

            “I found some flowers,” little Grace said and showed Liam her little bouquet of weeds.

            The children all began to talk about Liam’s grand adventure. Mary Margaret was trying to rally them together to carry on with the hike, but no one was paying her much mind. Jefferson had his focus on Gold.

            “Mr. Gold,” he said, “I’d heard you’d returned.”

            “Mr. Madden,” Gold said with a cool nod.

            “I didn’t expect to find you out in the woods,” Jefferson said.

            “I didn’t expect a lost child to show up outside my cabin.”

            “Good thing you found him, Belle would have killed me if I didn’t bring her son back home.”

            “You know Belle?” he questioned, a new batch of curiosity pricked.

            “Well we have kids the same age,” Jefferson explained, “it made sense that we setup playdates and help each other out. Carol passed away three years ago, so Belle was quite a help to me and Grace after that.”

            “I’m sorry for your loss,” Gold said really because it was what one was supposed to say, though he did feel some degree of empathy.

            “Thank you,” Jefferson replied, “We’ve managed to adjust.”

            Then they were already doing so much better than him. He could never adjust to the loss of Neal.

            “I suppose you and Belle are close then,” Gold said.

            Jefferson shrugged. “We’re friends and I guess I’m as close to a father figure Liam has.”

            “What about his real father?”

            “You’d have to ask Belle about that, all I know is he’s not in the picture.” Gold looked over at the young boy tossing stones in the stream with Grace. He was a good lad, clearly happy enough even if he was lacking in some of the shinier toys and a real father. Belle had done well on her own. But why did she have to be alone? Why wasn’t Liam’s father involved?

            “Liam always reminded me of someone,” Jefferson said.

            “Who?” Gold asked eagerly. Could this be his first clue?

            Jefferson had a slight grin on his face, a smirk that Gold detested immediately. “It’s hard to pinpoint, but I guess he kind of reminds me of Neal.”

            Disappointment and pain washed over him before he could bother to hide it. Still, seeing the way Neal laughed and those brown eyes… “Yes, a little,” Gold agreed. His heart ached at the sad truth.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Seven Years Ago_

_“_ _The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived—that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage—.”_

            Jane Austen’s captivating words were rudely cut off when the paperback book was ripped from Belle’s hands. Belle let out a gasp, the sensation of being ripped out of Pemberley sharp and more than little disorienting. She whirled around to give the book thief a withering glare, not at all surprised to see who it was.

            Keith Nottingham was standing behind her, waving her well-loved, battered paperback around over her head just out of her reach. “Keith, give me my book back,” Belle said.

            “You know if you read as much as you do, you’re eyes are going to fall out,” Keith told her.

            “And where did you hear that? Playboy?” she questioned, still reaching in vain for her book.

            “You really need to stop reading these books and start going out and having more fun? Come play pool with me a the Rabbit Hole tonight.”

            “First of all, I’m underage and so are you,” Belle pointed out to him, “and second of all I would much rather swim with carnivorous sharks than go anywhere with you.”

            Keith let out a barking laugh that reminded her of the hyenas from _The Lion King_. “You sure are funny, Belle. Hey, have you asked anyone to the Sadie Hawkins Dance yet?”

            “That’s not any of your business.”

            “Well I was thinking I could take you to the dance.”

            “Isn’t it my responsibility to ask?” Belle said.

            “I figured you would be too shy.”

            “How chivalrous of you,” Belle replied dryly, “Do let me correct my error in judgment. Would you please do me the honor of going to the dance with anyone else but me? I would truly appreciate it.”

            He smiled, but then the full scope of her words sank in. It took longer than she expected, perhaps she’d overestimated his intelligence. “What? Are you saying no?”

            “Technically you never asked me,” Belle said, “I simply refused to ask you because I don’t want to go to the dance with you.”

            “Why not?”

            “There is a very long list of reasons, but I’ll give you the main one,” Belle said, “You’re a jerk and I have no interest in you.”

            “What about when we kissed at Tamara’s party? You seemed to like me then.”

            “ _You_ kissed _me_ ,” Belle amended that.

            Keith gave her a cocky grin. “You have to admit it was a good kiss.”

            “No, I can call it sexual harassment though.” He had lowered the book while he had been speaking to her, so she made a quick lunge for it. Unfortunately, though he lacked in brains he did not lack in reflexes. He easily held the book out of her reach again.

            “Keith, give me back my book!” she demanded, jumping in vain to reach it again. Did he have to be so damn tall?

            “Not until you agree to take me to the dance.”

            “Seriously? You are that juvenile?”

            “What do you say, Belle?” Keith said, giving her that same creepy grin reminded her of Hannibal Lecter when he was savoring a tasty dish of the census taker’s liver.

            There was no way she was going to the dance with Keith, even if it meant having to go find another copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. She was about to tell him to keep the book, maybe he’d learn something about wooing women from it, but then someone equally as tall plucked the book from his had hand.

            Neal gave Keith a solid shove to his chest, not enough to hurt, but enough to knock him down to his ass. “What the hell do you think you are doing, Keith?” Neal stood over him, seeming larger than he really was with his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw locked.

            “Nothing.”

            “Didn’t seem like nothing. Looked like you were bothering Belle, stealing her book.”

            “I was just teasing her.”

            “No, you were being an ass. Grow up, and leave her alone.”

            Keith hauled himself up, fury in his dark eyes. “Just because your daddy owns this whole town doesn’t make you the prince. I’m not scared of you, Neal.”

            “Leave my father out of this,” Neal hissed, “And stop bothering Belle. She doesn’t want you harassing her anymore.”

            “Oh is that how it is?” Keith questioned, “She’s yours now? Didn’t realize she wasn’t a prude, just a gold digger willing her spread ‘em for the highest price.”

            Belle gasped at his language and then gasped again when Neal’s fist slammed into the side of Keith’s face. Keith staggered back, but not enough to keep him from swinging back. Keith struck a blow to Neal’s cheek, but he’d been ready. He delivered another solid punch to Keith’s stomach and it was over. Keith doubled over, sinking to his knees in the grass. Neal took another step towards him with his fist raised, but Belle clamped a hold of his arm.

            “Neal, don’t!” she shouted, “Let’s just go, he’s not worth it, let’s go!”

            Neal lowered his fists, his knuckles cracking as he released the tension. “I better not see you bothering Belle again.”

            Belle continued to pull him away. She may be small, but when she was determined enough she could be as strong as any body builder. Plus she had a good grip on the fleshy part of his arm making him go “Ow! Ow! Ow!” as she dragged him away.

            “Let go, Belle, before you pull the skin off my arm!” Neal whined. For a guy who just punched someone out, he could still be a baby when he wanted to.

            “I had to get you out of there before you killed him, then your father would kill you, so I’m trying to stop a double homicide here.”

            “Please, you don’t have to be so dramatic,” Neal said.

            “What will your dad say when he finds out that you punched Keith Nottingham?”

            “Did he deserve it,” Neal said with certainty.

            “Neal!”

            “What? I know stuff about my dad you don’t, trust me, punching some jerk doesn’t even top his list of wrongdoings.”

            “While I appreciate your help, I think you and your father need to take lessons in diplomacy that doesn’t involve violence.” Belle peered at the red mark on Neal’s cheek. “You should put some ice on that.”

            “Thanks, Nurse French, I’ll get right to that.”

            “You still should have done it,” she couldn’t help but scold him one last time.

            “And what were you going to do?” Neal questioned, “Please tell me you wouldn’t have given in and gone to the dance with him. I’ll call Dr. Hopper and make him talk to you if that’s the case.”

            Belle gave him a playful shove. “No,” she said, “I was just going to tell him to keep the book, maybe he’d get some enlightenment about dating and romance from it.”

            Neal laughed at that. “He wouldn’t read that book, there’s no pictures in it.”

            It was terrible, but Belle couldn’t help but laugh. Jane Austen was a bit out of Keith’s reading capabilities.

            “So are you going to the dance?” Neal asked her once the laughter had died down.

            Belle shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “You could ask Geoffrey,” he suggested. Belle wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “What’s wrong with him? You went out with him twice.”

            “He may not be as crude as Keith, but he’s just as brainless,” Belle said, “Ruby set me up on the first date and then I just decided to give him a second chance, but both times all he could talk about was himself. He’s too shallow for me.”

            “Okay, then anyone else catch your eye?” Belle looked down at her feet as they walked. It was a reflex, one that Neal caught instantly. “There _is_ someone! Who? Come on, tell me!”

            “There’s no one,” Belle insisted, hoping the color didn’t show in her cheeks.

            “You suck at lying. Come on, just admit who it is. If it’s not Geoffrey, then who? Lance? Philip?”

            “No,” Belle said, “There is nothing to tell.”

            “Someone else in school then? Someone I know?”

            “Neal, just drop it.”

            “So it is someone I know!” he laughed with delight. “Let me guess, maybe it’s not someone in school. What about Deputy Graham, you’ve been hanging out with him a lot at the animal shelter.”

            “No,” she said again, “there is no one, Neal.”

            “There is someone, I know it, and it’s someone I know.” He tapped his chin, his brow creasing as he thought about it some more. A flicker appeared in his brown eyes, a sudden spurt of worry. “Uh…is it me?”

            “What?” Belle gasped.

            “Look, I love you, Belle, I really do, just not like that and if you—.”

            “Neal,” Belle cut him off quickly, “I love you to, but if I were to date you I think I would wind up shooting you.”

            Neal thought about that for a moment then nodded. “Fair enough. So who is it?”

            “It’s no one!” she let out an aggravated cry just as they reached the corner of Main Street. As fate would have it, Mr. Gold was stepping out of his shop at that moment. Belle stopped short, her breath catching in her throat.

            “Neal, what are you doing to Belle now?” Gold immediately honed in on his son.

            “Nothing,” Neal replied.

            “Being a pest,” Belle muttered.

            “The usual then,” Gold replied. His eyes narrowed in on the fresh bruise forming on Neal’s cheek. “What happened to you? Did you get into a fight?”

            “I punched Keith Nottingham,” Neal said, “He was harassing Belle.”

            Gold flickered his gaze to her, his eyes softening a bit then nodded once. “Very well. Be sure Belle gets home all right, unless you’d like to stay for dinner again, dearie?”

            “Uh…sure,” Belle said, hoping he’d think her blush was simply from modesty, “I mean, as long as it wouldn’t be a problem.”

            “You never could be.” He gave her another smile that had her heart pounding against her ribs like a caged animal. She both mourned the loss of his gaze and welcomed the relief to calm down when he looked back at Neal. “I’ll see you two later. Be sure you get your homework done, I’m not pleased with your Trig scores this semester.”

            “Sorry, guess we can’t all be geniuses,” Neal mumbled.

            “Ivy League schools pay attention to grades, Neal. You have to put all of your effort and then some into school if you want to go to college.”

            “Whatever you say, Papa,” he replied.

            Gold looked back at her for a moment. “Keep him in line, Belle. He’ll actually listen to you.”

            “Of course,” she whispered, her fingers toying with her braid on her shoulder.

            “Dinner is at seven,” he reminded his son.

            “What a surprise,” he muttered back, but then let out an “oof” when Belle elbowed him in the ribs.

            “See you later, Mr. Gold,” Belle called out to him as he turned away, no doubt to begin collecting rent. He gave her a smile and waved her off.

            “You know, you’re a lot nicer to my dad than you are to me,” Neal pointed out, still rubbing his ribs though she knew she hardly hurt him.

            “Yeah well, he’s a lot less annoying than you,” she countered, “Let’s go to your house and I’ll help you with your Trig.”

            “Do you have to be so damn perfect?” he whined, but dutifully followed her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            It was the second Thursday of the month which meant it was time for Gold to collect the rent for the Game of Thorns flower shop. Moe French had no idea how lenient Gold had been to the man in the past. By his contract, he could have turned him out nearly a dozen times now, but he had let it go for Belle’s sake. He couldn’t let his son’s best friend be without a home or any source of income.

            Of course that was before Moe had kicked his daughter out for getting pregnant, now the man had lost his biggest ace in the deck without ever even knowing he had it. So when he went to collect the rent, he wasn’t going to take anything less than the full amount.

            He strode into the shop, the smell of roses, lilies, daisies, and every known sweet smelling plant hitting him like a wall. He remembered how Belle would always smell like this every time she visited his house, like the very essence of the flower shop had seeped into her blood. Funny how such things triggered the mind to remember better days.

            Moe was going over receipts, but these looked to be much more disorganized than a businessman like Gold would ever allow. He was kept putting them into different piles, switching them around, then peering at them like he couldn’t even remember what was on the paper. He finally looked up, but he didn’t stare at his landlord with fear. No, Moe looked at him with a different emotion, disgust.

            “You here for the rent?” Moe said.

            “I’m certainly not here for the half dead orchids,” Gold replied.

            Moe didn’t take the bait. “I’ll get your money,” he said. A shame, it might have been nice to turn him out.

            Gold was left alone in the far too dim shop. The paint was faded, the floor was cracked in places. The store was decently stocked, but the place was still dirty and in need of repairs. He’d always suspected Belle had been the one to keep the shop in order, now he had undeniable proof. She really had been beyond her years as a teenager.

            It still didn’t make sense to him. She had been so smart, so wise, who could have tempted her into throwing that away and getting pregnant? Oh he’d worried about Neal doing something stupid, but never Belle. Liam was a great kid, but what had happened that put her in that position?

            He was certain part of the blame rested on Moe’s shoulders. The man had never paid much attention to his daughter before. It was all to Belle’s credit that she had been the sweet natured, mature girl she was instead of a wild, barhopping floozy like she could have been with little to no parental guidance.

            Moe came back with a wad of bills tied together with a rubber band. “Here.”

            “Thank you.” Gold quickly counted the money. There were some people in town he trusted to have all of their rent on time, but Moe French was definitely not one of them.

            “It’s all there,” Moe said.

            Gold didn’t respond, just finished counting. Luckily for Moe, he was right. “Business has been good?”

            “Good enough.”

            Gold nodded. “I ran into Belle the other night. Apparently she’d not in the same financial good fortunes as you, she’s working two jobs.”

            Moe’s face turned a brilliant shade of red and his fists clenched on the counter. “Her concerns aren’t mine anymore.”

            “Not even your grandson?”

            “Is it really your concern?” Moe questioned him.

            “They should be yours,” Gold told him, “she’s your daughter.”

            “I don’t have to listen to this, especially not from you,” Moe said. He took his bundle of receipts and was prepared to walk away, but Gold grabbed his shoulder to keep him from leaving.

            “I may not have any stake in this,” Gold said, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t damn well point out what’s wrong. She’s your daughter! What changed to where that doesn’t mean anything to you anymore?”

            “You know what happened,” Moe hissed, “Don’t pretend to be ignorant. She made her choice. She has to live with those consequences.”

            Gold didn’t try and stop the man from leaving this time. It was for the best, if he had continued to be in the same room as Moe French he likely would have beat him to bloody pulp with his cane.

            He stormed back to his own shop without looking at any crosswalks or paying attention to traffic. Moe French had always been a fool and drunk, but he’d never thought the man completely callous as well. If Neal had gotten a girl pregnant, he never would have tossed his son out on the street to deal with it on his own. Oh he’d have been furious with his son, but he’d have made sure Neal didn’t have to face such difficult decisions on his own.

            One thing he knew now for certain is Moe wasn’t going to help his daughter. That left him with only one option.

            Gold called Dove to come to shop. The large man was intimidating to everyone in this town except for Gold. In a strange way, Dove was the only friend he could truly trust even though they knew very little about one another.

            Dove wasted no time in getting there. They didn’t exchange any pleasantries, Dove just nodded his head in greeting when he entered the room. “What do you need, sir?”

            “What do you know about Belle French?” Gold asked him.

            “The librarian? Not much. Why do you ask?”

            “Do you know anything about her son’s father?”

            “No.”

            “All right then,” Gold said. He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to Dove. “These are the three men I suspect are most likely Liam’s father. I want you to find out which one it is.”

            Dove examined the list. “Sheriff Graham?” he asked with evident surprise.

            “Belle and Graham worked together at the animal shelter,” Gold explained, “She may have come to him for comfort after Neal died. He had a brief fling with Regina a while back which is why I know he’s capable of small affairs.”

            “Geoffrey Knightly?” Dove read the next name.

            “He dated Belle briefly in high school,” Gold explained, “Perhaps they stated things up again after I left.

            “And Keith Nottingham?”

            “A lowlife that has always had an interest in Belle,” Gold said with obvious derision, “It’s possible that after Neal died, he caught her at a vulnerable moment. I could certainly see him abandoning her with a child.”

            Dove nodded and then folded the list and put it in his pocket. “It may take some time, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

            “Good. Let me know what you discover.”

            “Of course.”

            With that said, Dove left to begin his assignment. Perhaps he had no right digging into Belle’s life, but someone had to help her. Besides, while Moe was partly to blame for what happened, Gold knew he was also partly responsible himself. He used to be the person she would run to when she was in need, but after Neal died he had left. It was no wonder she had turned to the wrong person. Well he would find out who Liam’s father was and make sure the man took some responsibility for his actions. It was the least he could do for her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

             Cora Mills had a secret way of loosening lips whenever she needed to gain some important information. She always served her guest tea spiked with just a little bit of whiskey. It was never enough to be detected, just enough so by their third cup her guest was ready to spill all of their secrets. At the moment, Ms. Ginger was finishing her third cup of tea.

            “I was hoping you would tell me more about what’s happened here after I left,” Cora said, “Particularly more about what you shared with me the other day?”

            Ms. Ginger swallowed her last bit of tea and put her cup back on its saucer. “Hmm? Oh, do you mean the business with the schoolteacher and Mr. Nolan? Rumor is that they may be getting engaged soon.”

            “No, not about that. About the librarian,” Cora said.

            “Oh, you mean Belle French? I suppose that would be rather intriguing to hear,” Ms. Ginger said, taking a cookie and nibbling at it. “It was quite a shock. She was such a good girl before, so quiet and always helpful. But a few months after Neal died, it was obvious she was pregnant.”

            Cora frowned a little and stirred her tea. “Do you think Neal’s death had something to do with it?”

            “ _Well_ ,” Ms. Ginger drew out the word until it was more than one syllable, “It’s possible. I mean, she and Neal were just always together that naturally many have wondered if possibly…”

            “Possibly what?” Cora asked.

            “If Neal could have been the father,” Ms. Ginger said with a secretive grin before taking a large bite out of another cookie, “Have you seen the boy?”

            Cora swallowed hard and hoped her makeup hid the sudden rush of color that left her face. “No, no I haven’t.”

            “Well I’ve always thought he looked a bit like Neal, the same brown eyes, square chin, that sort of thing. In fact, I’d thought perhaps Mr. Gold had returned because of little Liam.”

            Cora didn’t know what to say. She’d made sure to drink only a little of the tea so she still had her resolve, but it seemed Sarah Ginger was also trying to pump her for information. So this was what the town was whispering about behind her back. They wondered if she knew about Tristan’s bastard grandson, if he was back to claim him, if any of it was true at all.

            She refused to let that stand. She would not be an object of whispers and pity, not when she was meant to be above them all.

            “I can’t speak for Miss French,” Cora said, “But I know that Neal’s death devastated Tristan. If he had a grandson, I’m certain he would have acknowledged him.”

            Ms. Ginger looked askance by that. “You’re certain? But the timing is perfect.”

            “If that were the case, why would he leave?” Cora questioned her, “And why wouldn’t this French girl come to him? I know Tristan, he’d have been there for his grandson if that were the case.”

            Ms. Ginger finished her cookie and brushed the crumbs off of her sweater. “Well, I’m sure you would know better than I.” She gave Cora a broad smile and then stood up. “Thank you for the tea, but I have to get back to City Hall.”

            “Of course, it was pleasure having you over,” Cora said. She gave her a double kiss on the cheek and waved her off at the door. The moment she was gone, her smile fell. Sarah wasn’t convinced, but neither was Cora. Could it be? Could that French brat be Tristan’s grandson?

            Cora abandoned the tea service for the maid to get and went to the study for a glass of brandy. Did Tristan know? No, she was fairly certain he’d have said something if he did. The man could hardly bear to hear his son’s name, if he knew about the possibility of grandson he’d have done something by now. She needed to get a look at this kid and see for herself if what Ms. Ginger said was true or if she was only wishful thinking of great gossip.

            “Did you have a lovely chat with Ms. Ginger?” Regina asked smoothly from the doorway. Cora didn’t even have to turn around to know her daughter was smiling just like the cat that caught the canary but framed the puppy.

            “You heard what she said,” Cora stated.

            “Well, the salon is just across from my home office,” Regina replied.

            Cora took a deep swallow of the liquor, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat, then topped off her glass with more. “Did you know about these rumors?”

            Regina shook her head. “I’m not one for gossip, mother. Besides, it all happened before I came to work here.”

            “Seems like quite a lot happened after we left this town,” Cora remarked, sipping more of her brandy.

            “Are you going to tell him?”

            Cora let out a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous.

            “Mother, that could be his grandson,” Regina said, “How can you be so selfish?”

            “Bite your tongue!” Cora hissed, “I’m not being be selfish, I’m trying to help him.”

            “Help him?” she replied with one skeptical brow raised.

            “What if it isn’t true? What if I got his hopes up that the boy is Neal’s only to find out she was just some teenage tramp and the child belongs to someone else? Surely you can see how he still grieves for Neal. If that were to happen it would be like losing his son all over again.”

            “So you’re just never going to tell him?” Regina questioned.

            Cora gave her daughter and innocent smile. “I will when I have proof that the boy is Neal’s.”

            Regina didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t question her mother. Oh Cora intended to look for proof about the boy, but she had no intention of giving it to Tristan. That girl had made her own choices. Tristan, his influence, his money, all of that was meant for her. She wasn’t going to let some consequence of cheap protection and teenage fumblings take any of that away from her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Gold had been avoiding going back to his home. He still owned the salmon colored Victorian on Maple Street, but he hadn’t set foot in it for seven years. Dove had hired a maid to come and make sure the place hadn’t gone into ruin, but other than that it hadn’t been disturbed since his departure. He didn’t really want to go there now, but with Dove on his new assignment, he needed his law books for this particular case he was considering so it was up to him to collect them.

            The house was dark. All of the lights were left off, the only house on the street that was without any illumination. It was still dusk so there was just enough light for him to see when he walked into the empty house. It was so still. When Neal was alive there had been music blasting from his room, his sneakers clomping up the stairs, and the slamming of doors whenever he left a room. Afterwards there had been the ticking of the clock as the sound, now there wasn’t even that.

            He would be quick. A dash to his study where he would grab his books and then back out all in less than three minutes. He wouldn’t linger or, heaven forbid, go upstairs and see Neal’s room. He didn’t want the memories in this house to press in and squeeze him to death like they had threatened seven years ago.

            The trip to his study went according to plan. He didn’t look at anything but the floor ahead of him, silently counting away the time as he made it to the study. His books were in need of dusting, obviously the maid hadn’t been worth a dime, but they were still where he’d left them so he didn’t rightly care at the moment. Now a quick dash back out and he’d be on his way.

            It was his eagerness that did him in.

            He didn’t pay attention properly to his footing. His cane hit the leg of an endtable, sliding just enough for him to lose his balance. He compensated by putting his weight on his wrong leg. The instant flare of pain up from his knee caused him to drop his books and fall to his good knee.

            Gold grunted, inwardly cursing his own stupidity. The throbbing was persistent, worse even when he tried to straighten up and carry on his way. Now he had no choice but to sit down and let his knee properly rest for a spell before he could go.

            He limped heavily, even with the bloody cane, to the sheet covered sofa. He sighed with relief when he could finally stretch out his leg properly, rubbing the joint with his fingers. It took him a moment to notice the strange lump he was sitting under. He had lounged on this sofa thousands of times, even slept on it once when a snowstorm hit and he and Neal had to depend on the fire for warmth. There had never been any hard lump digging into his backside before.

            He thought perhaps the maid had left something in her cleaning or a spring had come loose, but what he pulled out from under the cushions was nothing like that. What he pulled out hade him hating himself all over again because how could he possibly have forgotten this?

            The gun was still loaded, safety on at least, but just as he had left it. He stared at the shiny barrel, stunned that it was still there after all of this time. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise, no one had touched the sofa in seven years.

            His hands shook while the cold steel warmed in his palms. No body else knew about this. This was the only proof of what had almost happened that night. He looked over at the carpet, looking for something that should have been there but had long ago been scrubbed away. This was also the only proof of what _had_ happened that night seven years ago. But in that case, there was one other person who knew. One other person who knew his ultimate shame.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Seven Years Ago_

It had been two weeks since his son had died. Two weeks and already the town was back to normal. It was as if Neal’s life had been swept under the rug, an unsavory bit of dust that could be easily forgotten once out of sight. Not for Gold.

            He had hardly left his home since the funeral. What was the point? His reason for moving to Storybrooke, what had driven him through law school, and what had fueled him into his success and wealth was gone. He had made his fortune with his son in mind so Neal could go to college and have all of the things his father had lacked in his miserly childhood.

            So Gold didn’t go to his shop. Dove opened for him, but he didn’t care. Neither did the town it seemed. He was left alone for the most part and that suited him just fine.

            He spent his days drinking his way through his liquor cabinet. It didn’t stop the pain, but it numbed it enough to help him sleep. The only problem was that his dreams were filled of his boy. Sometimes he dreamed of their fight, or of Neal’s terrible final moments of life, other times he dreamed of what might have been: graduation, wedding, grandchildren, a happy future now lost forever.

            He was on his fourth glass of scotch and it occurred to him that he had no purpose left in life. He would spend the rest of his days alone. He had an ex-wife he hated and who hated him, his mother was dead, his father had left him when he was child. He had no one left in the world who loved him. He was thirty-nine years old and he could live another fifty years alone.

            _“Except you don’t have to,”_ the thought whispered in his brain. There was one option, a way to end the pain for good.

            It would be so easy. One shot and then oblivion. The town would talk about it for years, but he didn’t care what any of them thought now. They wouldn’t miss him anyways. No one would.

            He always kept the gun in the table by the entryway. He found it now and let it sit in his lap. One shot. That was all it would take. Despite all of the scotch, his fingers didn’t fumble as he checked the magazine. It was loaded and the safety was off.

            Now how to do it. He could put it in his mouth, but the feel of the cold metal on his tongue and seeing it in his hands like that made his pulse race. No, to the temple. He could feel the nozzle of the pistol against his head. One shot. Then it would be over. Slowly his finger moved over the trigger.

            _Rap. Rap. Rap._

            He nearly dropped the gun at the knocking on the door. “Mr. Gold?”

            It was Belle.

            She’d come over every day since the funeral. He wasn’t sure why. She was a sweet thing, but surely she had better things to do than watch him wallow in his grief.

            “Mr. Gold? It’s me, Belle.”

            He didn’t rise to answer the door. If he did then he would lose his nerve. He had to do this now. He was pressing the trigger again when there was the scraping of metal on the lock. Damn! He’d forgotten that she knew where the spare key was.

            He stuffed the gun under the cushions of the couch, too late to put it back, but he didn’t want to frighten her. So he sat there over the evidence of his plan when she walked in to the room. She had a brown paper bag from Granny’s under her arm.

            “Hi,” she said softly, “I brought you something from Granny’s.”

            She’d brought him something to eat on every school day and on the weekends she’d come and fix something for him in the kitchen. It was kind of her, but at the moment he just wanted her to leave. The longer she stayed the more likely he would lose the courage to go through with it.

            “I’m not hungry,” he told her.

            She sighed and set the bag down on the coffee table next to the nearly empty bottle of scotch. “Please,” she said, “You can’t drink all day. You have to eat something.”

            “I’m fine,” he told her.

            “Neal wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

            “My son is dead,” he reminded her flatly, “What he would want doesn’t matter anymore.” Right now he wanted to die. Her presence here was getting in the way of that.

            “Don’t say that. He’s probably scolding you right now from heaven for not taking better care of yourself.”

            He shook his head at her. He wanted to believe his son was in a better place, but it was hard to believe in anything anymore.

            “Well if you won’t do it for Neal then do it for me.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a to-go box. Inside was a plate of Granny’s famous meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. There was a cup of iced tea as well as plastic cutlery for him to use.

            “Why are you doing this?” he asked her.

            Belle frowned at him. “Because I want to. I know Neal would want me here.”

            “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

            “And where should I be?”

            “Out enjoying life.” Away from here so he could end his.

            “I’m fine here.”

            “Please just go, Belle,” he begged her, “I want to be alone.”

            “No one wants to be alone,” she insisted. She grabbed the plastic fork and speared a piece of meat and tried to put it in his hand. “Now eat.”

            He shoved her hand away. “Stop this!” he shouted, “Stop taking care of me! Stop trying to make me feel better! There is nothing you can do! My son is dead! I can’t feel better! My _son_ is _dead_!”

            “I know!” Belle shouted back at him, the first time she’d ever raised her voice at him, “My best friend is dead! I’m grieving too! You’re not alone, Mr. Gold, I’m in pain too, or have you forgotten that?”

            He stared at her, seeing the fire in her blue eyes as she stood before him. He remembered her tears at the funeral, how she’d stayed by his side the whole time. She’d even followed him home that day, shared a meal with him, stayed until it was dark and she’d had no choice but to go home. They’d both cried that day. Now she stood before him with an indignant look, but it was softening and turning into sorrow. “I miss him too,” she said with fresh tears forming, “I miss him so much.”

            She covered her face as the tears began to brim over. Gold stood up but he wasn’t sure why, maybe to comfort her just like he had before when she’d come to him in tears about her father.

            He gently pried her hands away from her face. That was when another thought struck him. It was a terrible, vile, but they were both in pain. They could comfort each other, use one another to feel better. Those four scotches told him what a good idea this was. He was listening.

            She was staring at him with those big blue eyes, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. He let go of her hands to cup her face. His thumb freed her lip from her teeth, it was red now and plump like a ripe plum. It was the final cut on the last thread holding his morals in place.

            He bent his head down and captured her mouth with his. There was no gentleness in this kiss. There was nothing but need left in him. He tried to deepen the kiss, but she nudged him away.

            “M-Mr. Gold?” she said breathlessly, “What are you—?”

            “Please,” he begged her, pulling her closer to him, “It will feel good. We’ll both feel good.”

            She still seemed a little uncertain. A better man would stop, but he was not that. Not tonight. “Please, Belle,” he begged her, “I just want to forget, for just a little while, we can both forget.”

            She was biting her lip again, the urge to free it again and bite it himself came from the scotch, no doubt. Finally, she nodded and when he kissed her again, she opened her mouth and kissed him back.

            He explored her sweet mouth, finding places that made her moan. He let his hands slip down to her waist while she gripped at his hair, tugging at it in a way that got his blood pumping.

            He trailed kisses along her jaw then licked a path down her soft throat. She arched her neck to give him more room, more skin to kiss and nibble at. His hands roamed under her shirt, enjoying the heat of her slim body. When he began to raise the hem of her shirt, he felt her stiffen in his arms. He kissed her again, searching deep with his tongue until she was nearly limp in his embrace. When he lifted her shirt again she didn’t stop him.

            She had a pale blue cotton bra on, nothing sexy, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t waste time unhooking it and tossing the garment aside. Belle blushed and started to pull away to cover herself, but he didn’t let her. Her breasts were small, but still large enough to fill his hands and topped with perfect rosy nipples. He caressed the soft skin there before kneading it. When his thumb brushed her pebbled nipple, she gasped. He wanted her to make more sounds like that.

            He set his mouth to her nipple, sucking at it and then laving it with his tongue. Belle let out a small cry and then a long, throaty moan, her fingers pulling at his hair again. When he nibbled at her other breast with his teeth he felt her knees begin to buckle.

            They carefully fell to the carpet, the couch just too far away to bother with. He wanted to taste her breasts some more, but Belle surprised him by putting a hand on his chest to stop him. She didn’t shove him away. Her fingers reached for the top button of his shirt and slipped it from its fastening. He watched as she went down, down, down, until they were all free and she spread the shirt apart. Her small hands traced the lines of his chest so light it was as gentle as a butterfly’s wings. She circled his nipples, watching as they puckered like hers did. Then she pressed a tiny kiss to one nipple.

            Gold let out a growl. His blood was racing south, his cock going fully hard in an instant. It had been so long and he needed this desperately.           

            He attacked her mouth again as he pushed her down onto her back. The carpet was soft, he knew that because Neal had loved to roll on it as a child. No. He couldn’t think about that. Instead he focused on forgetting.

            He unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down along with her cotton panties. Now she was completely naked, his cock twitching at all of the lush, pink skin and the thatch of glistening curls between her legs.

            His cock was straining hard against his pants. He quickly unbuckled his belt and shoved them down with his boxers, kicking the clothes aside. Belle was blushing, but her eyes were wide as they stared at his naked body. He didn’t know if she found him pleasing or not, he didn’t care. He kissed her again as he slipped one hand between her legs. She was wet, but not wet enough. He parted her soft folds until he could find her clit, rubbing it softly with his fingers. She stiffened again but a moan slipped out of her throat. When he pinched her there, she grabbed his hand and started directing him how to touch, how hard she wanted him to go, let out whimpers all the while. He had a better idea.

            He started pressing kisses to her trembling belly as he slid his way down, sucking and licking at the place where her thigh met her hip.

            “Wha—what—?” she didn’t get to finish. He parted her thighs and then set his mouth to her mound.

            Belle arched up at the first touch of his tongue to her clit. Her hands dug into his hair, pulling at it so hard surely some were tugged from his scalp. He didn’t care, he relished that bit of pain. He swirled his tongue around her clit while he slid one finger into her passage. She was tight and so wet that he let out a groan. He found that sweet spot inside that made her twitch around his shoulders. She cried out when he added a second finger. He continued to suckle her little bud while thrusting his fingers until he felt her walls constrict and she let out a scream as she came.

            He cock was throbbing now and dripping with need. Belle was still gasping for breath when he positioned himself at her entrance and then thrust his way in. She stiffened, a cry escaped her throat, and her nails dug into his shoulders. He kissed her until her grip on him loosened. God she was tight, so deliciously hot and tight that he couldn’t think. Perfect. He pulled out almost all the way then thrust back in. She let out a moan, but he couldn’t take this slow. He set up a quick rhythm thrusting hard because he knew he wouldn’t last. Finally that tingling started in his gut and then he cried out as his release came, along with the blessed fog through his mind.

            It had gone to quick for her to come again, but she showed no disappointment, just stroked his back as he panted against her neck. He let his head rest between her breasts and listened to the pounding of her heart. She was so sweet, so good to let him do this.

            No! He was thinking again! If he started doing that the pain would come back and drown him this time.

            So he kissed her again. She eagerly complied, searching his own mouth while her hands kneaded his shoulders. Inspiration struck when her hands reached down to cup his arse. He pulled away from her and rolled her onto her belly. She looked back at him, blinking in confusion, then tried to sit up, but he shoved her back down. He grabbed two throw pillows and shoved them beneath her hips. His cock was stirring again as he kissed and licked down her spin. She moaned when he kneaded her nether cheeks, one hand slipping around to caress her mound. She was still wet, soaking actually. Perfect.

            He thrust into her from behind, both of them letting out groans when he did. It was so much deeper from this angle. Taking his time this time, he set up a slower, more powerful rhythm as he rubbed her clit. She was still so wet and tight, like nothing he’d ever felt before. Her walls clamped around his cock and she screamed into the carpet as she came again. He bit into the nape of her neck when he spilled himself inside her.

            He rolled away, but she didn’t let him go far, curling up into his chest. He shut his eyes as he let the aftershocks washed over him. Next thing he knew he could feel her soft lips brushing against his nipples. He wasn’t certain, but it felt like he was waking up so perhaps they’d dozed off for a little while. But Belle was awake now and obviously eager to explore his body.

            She kissed and licked down the planes of his stomach. He lifted his head to watch her. Would she actually…?

            Belle touched his hardening cock with her fingers, tracing it’s length so gently it was torture. The organ had a life of it’s own, growing with each caress. When she set her tongue to the head he had to slam his fist down on the floor to keep from thrusting into her mouth. She put the tip in her mouth and gave it a tentative lick.

            “God!” he groaned, his hand finding the top of her head, “More,” he managed to gasp out.

            She understood, taking a bit more of his length into his mouth. It felt so good! So hot, so wet, and then when she started to suck him, he nearly came then and there.

            “Stop,” he told her. As much as he would love to let her suck him off, he wanted to be inside her again. She removed her mouth from his cock, her eyes nervous again.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her so she straddled his waist.

            Belle took his cock in her hand again, giving it a light squeeze that had him seeing stars. Then she positioned it at her slit and slowly, oh so slowly, sank down onto him. They both cried out when he was buried to the hilt into her heat again. He gripped her waist, begging her to move. He guided her at first, but soon she learned to put her hands on his shoulders to control her movements. Her breasts bounced as she rode him and he couldn’t resist rubbing at them. When he pinched her nipples she let out another cry, throwing her head back as the pleasure washed over her. A few more thrusts and he followed her.

            Belle collapsed against him. He was so tired, no, so blissfully lethargic. He let her rest her head on his chest and tuck their legs together. Finally, finally, the pain was gone, and he let himself drift into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know the truth about Gold's shame. What does it mean? What will happen next? Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Next Chapter: Belle struggles to make ends meet while raising Liam on her own. In the past, Neal discovers who Belle has a crush on. Gold continues to investigate the likely suspects for Liam's father, but discovers the shocking truth in a most unlikely way.


	5. Chapter 4: An Obvious Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle struggles to make ends meet while raising Liam on her own. In the past, Gold wakes up and realizes he slept with Belle. Gold continues to investigate the likely suspects for Liam's father, but discovers the shocking truth in a most unlikely way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't been around as much. I'm currently in the middle of an internship that will decide my career, so busy busy busy. Luckily, I found the time to give you this chapter. I hope you all love it!

            Belle loved the library, especially how she got permission to read books on the job, but sometimes even she needed a break from the quiet. Granny’s was the perfect place for that because there as always one or two people in there at the least. Plus, Ruby was always up to chat if that’s what she wanted. Jefferson had taken Liam for a playdate with Grace, giving Belle some time to get a few things done without the distraction of a curious six year old.

            It wasn’t as glamorous of a vacation as one might expect. She’d gone grocery shopping, bought Liam a new pair of shoes since he’d just outgrown his, and now was at Granny’s sorting her checkbook and bills. The truth about being a mother was there was no such thing as a vacation.

            Any vacation was actually the last thing on her mind as she looked over her finances. Her rent, water bill, cable bill, and electricity were all due. It was tough to deal with all of the costs, not to mention the other expenses of food and other needs. Her income was stretched to the limit. She looked glumly at the numbers. Christmas would be coming up in a few months, and Liam’s birthday too. It was time to start saving for that, but at this rate she wouldn’t scrape up enough to cover those costs with her current income.

            “You’re looking grim,” Ruby said as she poured her another cup of coffee.

            Belle sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Just money issues.”

            Ruby let out a sympathetic “hmm” and shook her head. “Anything I can do to help?”

            “Win the lottery for me,” Belle said with a grin.

            “I’ll get on that,” Ruby said, “But seriously, if you need help…”

            “Oh it’s not that,” Belle said, “I’m getting by, I’m just not saving as much as I’d like. Plus with the holidays looming ahead. I mean, Liam never complains, but I know he’d like some of the stuff his friends at school have.”

            “He’s six,” Ruby said, “Isn’t it a little early for kids his age to have rivalries over toys?”

            “I wouldn’t go that far, its just I want him to have those things. Grace just got her first iPad…”

            “Grace Madden has an iPad?” Ruby responded, “She’s six years old! I’m twenty-five and I still don’t have an iPad.”

            “Ruby, it was a birthday present from her father,” Belle reminded her, “Besides, lots of kids have those now.”

            “I can’t believe I’m jealous of a six year old,” Ruby grumbled as she walked to the kitchen to get more trays of food.

            Belle let out a laugh, but the merriment didn’t last more than a moment. Would Liam grow up jealous of all of his friends and classmates? In time, would he resent the fact that she couldn’t afford to give him the things other children his age took for granted? She had grown up without some of the luxuries her friends had. While she’d endured some moments of envy, in the end she’d learned to appreciate the more important things in life. Still, a large part of her wanted Liam to get to have everything he ever wanted, even if it was something as small as toy bought at full price.

            A pair of beat up work gloves was slapped onto the counter, centimeters away from Belle’s checkbook. She looked over to see Leroy Miner plopping down onto the barstool next to her. He peered down at the balance sheet. “What’cha doing, sister?”

            Belle quickly closed her checkbook from his nosy eyes. “Just going through my finances.”

            “Why? You finally get a big check from Gold?”

            Belle’s heart leapt in her chest. For a moment she wondered if he knew the truth. But how? Only four other people in this town knew what had happened and only three of them knew her secret. The moment of panic passed, still it took effort for her to feign ignorance.

            “Why would Mr. Gold give me money?” Belle asked Leroy.

            “Because of Liam.”

            “And what does Liam have to do with Mr. Gold?”

            Leroy rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, sister, he’s back now. Time to give up the act.”

            “What are you talking about?” Belle hoped to sound confused. Oh God, how had he found out?

            “I don’t know why you don’t just admit it,” Leroy said. Belle felt the blood drain from her face. “We all know that kid is his grandson.”

            Belle almost didn’t catch the full scope of his words. Once they sunk in, her entire body sagged in relief. “Leroy, I’m not talking about this again,” she said.

            “Just admit it.”

            “Even if it were true,” she said, “It’s none of your business.”

            “But he had to have given you something. I mean, that kid is all he has left of Neal.”

            “Mr. Gold doesn’t owe me any money,” Belle said, “He hasn’t offered any nor have I asked for any and I never will. I would appreciate it if you would leave Neal out of this as it never concerned him and I don’t like the idea of anyone disrespecting his memory.”

            “You mean that jackass hasn’t give you a dime?” Leroy hissed.

            “Leroy, I told you to drop it!” Belle snapped, “Didn’t I just say I don’t need or want Mr. Gold’s money? He has nothing to do with Liam now will you please let it go?”

            Leroy looked over at the menu for a second and then shook his head. “I never liked Gold, but I never thought he’d be so heartless.”

            Belle let out a sigh before gathering her things. She threw down a few bills and gave Leroy a scathing look before abandoning the diner. She was tired of all of the gossip and she certainly wasn’t going to sit there and let everyone feel sorry for her because of what they _thought_ was the truth.

            Granny was only a few steps behind her. “Belle,” she called out to her, making her stop and turn around  “Belle, you know this won’t be the last time this happens.”

            “It wasn’t the first either,” Belle reminded her.

            Granny crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s gone on long enough. Maybe it’s time to let it all out in the open.”

            “Granny…”

            “I know,” she said, “I know it’s a big deal and with him being back it complicates things, but you know it can’t go on like this much longer. He’s going to find out eventually.”

            “He hasn’t yet,” Belle reminded her.

            “Granted, maybe he’s dumber than I originally thought, but he will put the pieces together sooner rather than later,” Granny said, “What are you going to do then?”

            It was a question that had weighed on her mind ever since she’d run into Tristan Gold at the pharmacy. What was she going to do? She had been waiting every day for him to come to her home and tell her he knew everything. But each day passed with nothing more than him trying to avoid meeting her eyes or ducking away so they wouldn’t have to pass each other on the street.

            “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I do know I’m not ashamed of anything. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

            “Of course not,” Granny’s expression softened. “I know what he did.”

            “You mean what he didn’t do,” Belle said.

            “That too, but you have to know he won’t be happy when he realizes you haven’t told him since he came back.”

            “Well then,” Belle said, her eyes drifting over to where the pawn shop sat quietly, waiting for customers, “maybe he’ll learn not to run and hide. I gave him what he wanted, I left him alone. Let him deal with those consequences.”

            God knows, she had done that seven years ago.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            It was easy to distract himself when Gold was in his shop. There were so many things to tinker and fix, sometimes he could forget for a little while that his son was dead and his heart would never be healed from that. He supposed that was another reason why he was so determined to find Liam’s father. It was another distraction…and a way for him to right a wrong.

            He wasn’t sure if he could ever really atone for what he did to Belle, or to Neal. He didn’t want to think about how his son would have felt if he could know what he’d done to his best friend. Neal had cared so much for Belle, most likely far more than a friendship. He would have hated his father even more than he already had if he could know.

            He couldn’t make it up to Neal. He couldn’t wrap his arms around his boy and apologize for all that he had done. However, he could find a way to get Belle the help she needs in raising her son.

            The bell rang above the shop door. One quick glance showed him it was Dove. He hadn’t seen his employee for several days, his return meant only one thing.

            “You have the information I asked for.”

            “What I could find.”

            Gold raised one brow. “What does that mean?”

            “It means this won’t be as easy as you thought. For starters, Miss French didn’t put any name on the birth certificate for her son. There is no legal way of knowing who the father of her child is.”

            It was only mildly surprising. It was obvious Belle wasn’t keen on sharing the identity of Liam’s father, but he had thought she would at least put a name on record. Whatever happened must have really hurt her to where she chose to literally erase him from Liam’s existence.

            “I assume you didn’t come here just to tell me that,” Gold said.

            “I looked into all three of the men. I can say with certainty that Sheriff Graham is not the boy’s father.”

            “What makes you believe that?”

            “His records are clean,” Dove said, “No indications of anything shady. He did work at the animal shelter with Miss French, but nothing suggests they saw each other outside of that. His finances are good. Not to mention the fact that all indications show that he is still friendly with her. If he was the boy’s father, I believe he would be involved.”

            It made sense, and while Gold didn’t exactly approve Graham’s past fling with Regina, it was hardly enough to prove the man to be rotten father. Graham had always been one of the few people in town who never begrudged him.

            “And the others?” he asked.

            “Keith Nottingham is a nobody,” Dove said.

            “I knew that already.”

            “His job at the cannery gives him just enough money for rent and alcohol,” Dove continued, “It seems he’s always shown an interest in Miss French, but she’s rebuffed him every time. There isn’t much more to say other than that. I could certainly see him abandoning a child, though I have no proof that he is the one you’re looking for.”

            So Keith remained on the list, though he certainly hoped he was wrong in that regard. “What of Geoffery Knightly?”

            “He left Storybrooke to play football at Plymouth State. He was drafted in the NFL, but was hurt his first year, lost everything. He came back to Storybrooke to work as the assistant coach for the high school. I understand he and Miss French dated in high school, but there has been little contact between them since he graduated high school.”

            “So he could still be Liam’s father?” Gold questioned.

            Dove nodded once. “His finances are small, but steady. He spends most of his time with Billy the mechanic, apparently they are friends.”

            “You go speak with Knightly,” Gold said, “Find out what he knows and if it’s him. I’ll go find Nottingham. I want this cleared up tonight.”

            He needed this done. Maybe once he has his answer that pit in his stomach ever since he saw her son would go away. Gold needed to assuage his guilt, the put it all behind him. Maybe then he could actually look her in the eye again. Just maybe.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Seven Years Ago_

            It wasn’t Neal’s first school dance so perhaps that’s why he was pretty blasé about the whole thing. Last year he’d taken out Tamara Jenkins, a girl far too into her cell phone, hair, nails, and every cliché in the book. Thank God they hadn’t last past New Year’s or he may have had to resort to subterfuge.

            This Sadie Hawkin’s Dance Neal was going with Belle, a far more suitable choice. Still, he thought his son would be more invested into the night. It must be their first date, or perhaps a “almost date” as he’d once been told when Neal had invited Maria Raines for a study session back in ninth grade. Of course this only meant Neal spent one hour doing his hair instead of two.

            “Did you pick up a corsage for Belle?” he asked him, trying to hold his breath from the hair gel fumes.

            Neal looked at his father in the mirror, his hands still stuck in his hair. “Why would I do that?”

            “Because that’s what you’re supposed to give your date at social events involving dance.”

            “A. Social events involving dance? Why can’t you just say, ‘dance’? B. corsages are for prom, and C. She’s not my date, we’re just going together. Besides, what would I do? Have Belle sell me her own corsage?”

            He had a valid point, God knew Belle spent more time selling flowers in that shop than her own father. “I could have bought it for you,” he said.

            “Great idea,” Neal said, “Maybe next time you can buy my condoms for me.”

            Gold gave his son the look he normally reserved for those late on their rent. “If you care to live to graduation, I wouldn’t suggest you make jokes like that again.”

            “Oh and I’m sure you were a monk when you were eighteen.”

            “You won’t be eighteen for four months, continue your vows of celibacy until then.” Not that Neal needed to know he’d given up that ideal at sixteen. He’d much prefer believing his son was celibate until he was long into his grave.

            Neal muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “too late” but Gold chose to pretend he didn’t hear that. He thought toddlers were the worst, teenage sons were just pure torture.

            Since it was impossible to know when Neal would be finished prepping, Gold went back downstairs to ready his evening alone. He had his dinner in the oven warming, afterwards he would enjoy a brandy over the evening news that, for once, would not be overshadowed with rock music from upstairs. Then he may have another glass of brandy as he read _Sherlock Holmes_.

            The knock at the door sent him away from the kitchen to the foyer. He knew it must be Belle, more than a little annoyed that his son was making a mess of this date by not picking her up. He opened it, a greeting on his tongue, but the air left his body in one great whoosh once he laid eyes on her.

            He had never seen Belle wear a dress like this. It was short, coming about mid-thigh and cut in a halter style. It was full of turquoise and royal blue sequins. On another girl it may have looked gaudy, but on Belle it made her look older than her seventeen years. Her hair was a loose wave of curls that framed her perfect face in a look a supermodel would envy. She looked like a woman ready for a night out on the town, and if he were a younger man he’d be tempted to join her.

            “Belle,” he said, “You look…stunning,” he finally settled on. All other words seemed inadequate.

            Belle blushed. “Thank you. Ruby helped me pick it out. You don’t think it’s too much?”

            “Not at all,” he said, “Neal will love it.”

            That was right, the dress, her hair, it was all for the benefit of his son, not him. He needed to stop staring at her. That was hard when he let her in and he could see that the flared skirt managed to curve around her backside perfectly. When had Belle French turned into such a ravishing beauty? It made him almost wish he was seventeen again.

            “I’m sorry you have to wait,” Gold told her, “Neal should be down soon.”

            “Oh I don’t mind,” Belle said.

            “Still, a beautiful girl like you should be making the man wait and not the other way around.”

            Belle smiled at him, her cheeks pinking more that just blush. “That’s sweet of you.”

            God, he needed to calm down. Now he had embarrassed her. She was seventeen and just starting to date his son, he couldn’t be ogling her like this.

            “ _Sherlock Holmes_?” Belle said, her fingers lovingly touching the cover of the book, “Are you reading this?”

            “Yes, have you read it?”

            “A few of the stories. Recently I found Raymond Chandler’s _The Big Sleep_ at the library. I enjoyed it very much.”

            “You like hardboiled detectives?” he asked with a smile.

            “I like all books,” Belle reminded him, “But right now I find myself into mysteries. I think I’ll try some Agatha Christie next.”

            “I like her Poirot mysteries,” Gold told her.

            Belle grinned. “Well, if you like the way a lady writes maybe I should introduce you to Jane Austen.”

            He gave her a teasing glare. “Do you think me so sexist that I haven’t read her already?”

            “Have you?”

            “I’m from, Scotland, dearie. I grew up with great British writers, including Miss Austen. Some might find her a bit girlish, but she truly was a master of dialogue.”

            “I agree. What about Louisa May Alcott? Have you—?”

            “Seriously?” Neal’s voice came down from the stairs, “You can’t have been here five minutes and you’re already going on about books.”

            “It’s been nearly ten,” Gold reminded his son, “And books are far more nourishing to the mind than your videogames.”

            “ _Call of Duty_ is way more fun than _Little Women_ ,” Neal replied, “Who knows? Maybe in a few decades they’ll be teaching videogames in school.”

            “Considering the state of education I wouldn’t be surprised,” Gold muttered, making Belle laugh.

            “You look very handsome, Neal,” Belle said.

            “Thanks. You look nice too, Belle.”

            “Nice?” Gold scoffed, “Surely you can do better than that.”

            “Well I would wax her some poetry, but my skills aren’t up to snuff.”

            “I don’t need poetry,” Belle assured him, “Thank you, Neal.”

            She was far too kind. Really, later he was going to have a serious talk with his son about how to treat a woman. Just because Belle had been his friend first didn’t mean he shouldn’t shower her with compliments now that they were dating. Perhaps his son was merely nervous.

            “We better go,” Belle said, “Or we’ll be late.”

            “Be home by eleven,” Gold told Neal, “And make sure you drop Belle off, I don’t want her walking alone late at night.” Especially not in that dress, she looked far too pretty.

            “We’ll probably stop at Granny’s later,” Neal said, “You know how these dances have shitty food.”

            “Watch your language and the curfew stands.”

            Neal rolled his eyes and put one hand on Belle’s shoulder to escort her out. “And people think he’s easy on me because I’m his son,” he muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

            “Eleven,” Gold reminded him with a growl.

            “I heard you.”

            Belle looked over her shoulder to give him a parting smile and a wave. “Good bye, Mr. Gold.”

            “Good bye, Belle.”

            He went to the window and watched as they climbed into Neal’s black 2009 Corvette, Belle opened her own door, something that miffed Gold to no end. The proper ways of courtship were long dead among the teenagers these days. Really, Neal needed to learn how to go about dating young women. Belle wasn’t like Tamara or other girls willing to flit from boy to boy like some article of clothing. She needed to be treated like the jewel she was. If he had been younger…well he liked to think he might have been able to find a girl like Belle. There weren’t too many like her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Belle had taken to working at the Rabbit Hole three nights a week once she turned twenty-one. She used to work at Granny’s, but the wages and tips at the Rabbit Hole were better. She preferred her job at the library, but the income wasn’t enough for the both of them to live on. Still, she was hoping one day to maybe scrape up enough funds to try and take a few community college courses so she could have a career. However, she wanted to save money for Liam to go to school when he was older. That was ultimately more important than any of her desires.

            She had thought working at the bar would be fun. She had imagined fun music, laughing with her customers as she poured them drinks after a busy day. Maybe she’d seen _Cocktail_ too many times, but the money wasn’t bad and she knew she’d make better tips than Granny’s. While she did enjoy some of her regular customers such as Tom Clark and even grumpy Leroy, there were others she detested. Keith Nottingham was at the top of that list.

            The immature boy who had preferred napping in class rather than actually doing the work was now an immature man who’s best friends were Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker. Ever since she started working there he made sure to come to every one of her shifts and repeatedly hit on her. The sad part was, her boss called it part of the job. Every week she said she was going to quit, but bills that piled up always convinced her to stick around.

            Keith was now on his third shot of cheap whiskey. Like clockwork, this was when he started getting frisky. The good thing was he’d come in late tonight and she was just about to clock out and go home. Guess he’d have to practice his “charm” on Tony tonight.

            Belle poured Marco another beer when she heard the door open. A quick glance turned into a deer in the headlights stare. Tristan Gold had just walked in. Her mind scrambled for a reason why he would be here. A bar was not his scene. He certainly could afford much better liquor than what they served at the Rabbit Hole. It wasn’t until she saw Tony counting up bills and sticking them in an envelope that she realized what day it was and who actually owned the building.

            She thought about ducking into the back, but that chance was shot to hell when Gold locked eyes with her. She was too slow to look away. Well, there was no reason for her to be ashamed or to hide. She may not like her second job, but she was proud of what she was willing to do for her son. Instead she dared him to say something with her eyes. It was him that looked away. It didn’t surprise her, but why did it still hurt just a little?

            “Your money is all here, Mr. Gold.”

            “Those bills better be clean this time,” she heard Gold reply, “Last time there was something sticky on them.”

            “Yeah, I threw them in the wash,” Tony said dryly.

            Gold gave him his famous indignant look, the same look Belle had seen him give Neal a hundred times, before taking the money. “Good evening,” he said.

            “So long,” Tony replied.

            Gold flickered his gaze to her for a brief moment, but then turned away without saying a word to her. It was for the best. She doubted they would carry much of a conversation anyways.

            “Belle, it’s time to clock out,” Tony reminded her.

            “Thanks,” she said. She gathered up her tips and stuff them into her purse before taking her coat. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

            Liam would be in bed by now, but at least that meant she’d have time to take a hot shower and wash out the stench of booze and cigarettes from her hair. It was chilly outside, but at least it wasn’t raining again.

            “Hey baby.”

            Belle let out a groan and didn’t bother to turn around. “Go away, Keith.”

            “Come on, doll, it’s cold out. How about we go back to my place?”

            “As tempting as it would be going to your father’s one bedroom apartment above the cannery,” Belle said dryly, “I do have a child I need to get back to.”

            “Come on, can’t your kid take care of himself for a night?”

            “Keith, do yourself a favor and have a vasectomy,” Belle said. The world would be so much better without the threat of his procreation.

            He gave her a bitter look. “Hey, you don’t have to be so rude about it.”

            “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve had a long day and I’m just really looking forward to going home.”

            “Well, how about I just go home with you.”

            “Oh no!” she cried, “Keith, that wasn’t an invitation.”

            “Oh, Belle, I know you’ve been playing hard to get, but you don’t have to play anymore. I’m ready.”

            “I haven’t been—Keith!” Belle let out a yelp when he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her towards him to plant a large, sloppy kiss on her mouth. “Keith, let go of me!” She shoved at him and tried to kick him in the shins.

            “I didn’t know you liked it rough, baby,” he said with delight.

            “Let me go this instant!” Belle cried and tried to push at him again.

            Keith released her so fast she nearly stumbled to the sidewalk. Had she finally gotten through to him? She looked and saw the Keith was now pinned to the wall with a cane to his throat, a cane held by Tristan Gold.

            “Don’t _ever_ put your filthy hands on her again!” Gold cried.

            “Tristan!” Belle shouted, tugging at his coat, “Tristan, let him go! You don’t have to hurt him!”

            “He was going to hurt you,” Gold snarled.

            “He’s a drunken fool, you can do much better than this. Now let him go.”

            Gold tore his cane away from Keith’s larynx with a growl. Keith grabbed his throat, letting out a hacking cough as he tried to suck in air again. “Go,” Gold commanded him, “And I better not see you so much as look at her again.”

            Keith was still coughing as he scrambled away. Belle had never seen anyone run so hard in her life. She couldn’t blame him one bit, not that she was sorry to see him go.

            “You do realize if Graham saw you do that you would be behind bars right now,” Belle told Gold.

            “He deserved it,” Gold said.

            “Keith deserves a lot of things. Thank you for helping, but you could have just told him to stop. He may be a drunken ass, but he’s not the type to go at it in front of an audience.”

            “No, he just prefers assaulting women in the dark,” Gold replied.

            “Then call Graham,” Belle said, “That is what I was going to do once I got him off of me.”

            “Oh really? And if you hadn’t been able to fight him off?”

            “I have before,” she said, “I don’t need to you save me, Gold. I can handle myself just fine. I’ve been on my own for seven years so I learned to fight my own battles a long time ago.”

            Belle assumed that was it. She turned around, stomping in the direction that would lead to hear street when she heard him call out, “Is it him?”

            “What?” she turned to ask him.

            “Is that arse the father of your son?” Gold asked.

            Belle gaped at him. He couldn’t possibly…? Why would he think that when the truth was right there, sitting in front of them. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

            “Well, I know he’s always wanted you. Did you get drunk and do something you regretted?”

            “No, you’re the only person I know who did that.”

            She waited for him to say something, deny it perhaps. She’d waited for a lot of things when it came to Tristan Gold. But as always, she was met with silence. “I have to get home,” she said.

            “Belle,” he called out to her.

            “Keith isn’t Liam’s father,” Belle called back to him but she kept on walking.

            “Then who is?”

            “It doesn’t matter,” she replied, “I don’t want anything from him. I don’t think he would be ready anyways.”

            That was the truth that hurt the most. Her own broken heart had mended long ago. She could accept the fact that he couldn’t want her, but Liam…he wasn’t ready. Maybe he never would be.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Seven Years Ago_

 

            It was the pounding of his brain against his skull that finally roused Gold. He let out a groan and rolled over onto his back, his head smacking against the carpet. Carpet? What the…? He gingerly opened one eye, squinting up into his living room ceiling. He was in his living room and not in his grave like he had wanted.

            It was amazing how quickly he could remember his sad lot once the liquor was gone. He would drink to forget but in the morning he was always left with a drum line in his head and a shattered heart all over again. How was he still alive? He’d been quite clear in his intention on blowing his brains out. Maybe if the hammering in his head would stop it would be easier to remember.

            His fingers sought out the fringe of the throw he usually kept folded on the couch. So he was covered in a blanket. That was nice, it kept him from getting cold. Wait, why would he be cold? Oh that’s right. He was naked.

            Naked!

            Gold sat straight up then immediately dropped his head into his hands. Oh God, what had he done? Maybe it was a dream, a delusion conjured up from his grief and too much whiskey.

            “Oh, you’re up.”

            Gold lifted his head and blinked at the doorway that led to the kitchen. Belle was standing there, fully dressed, her cheeks blooming with a new blush. “I…I made you some coffee,” she said, “I can’t stay. I’ve got school and my father will be waiting for me. But I can come by again this evening. I…uh…I guess we need to talk about some things.”

            School? Talk? What had he done? What kind of monster had he become? He just stared at her, unable to speak a word. What could he possibly say? He’d already destroyed any semblance of who he was. What words could adequately portray the depravity of what had happened?

            “I’ll see you later then,” she said, giving him one last smile before heading towards the front door. The hollow click of the lock slipping into the doorjamb finally slammed the reality of all of this into his brain. He’d had sex with Belle French. He’d had sex with a seventeen year old girl. He’d had sex with his dead son’s girlfriend.

            He was the worst person in the world.

            Slowly, he climbed to his shaky feet. He didn’t really know what he intended to do, but clearly getting up only made it all that much worst. There at his feet was a bloodstain.

            Oh God, she’d been a virgin. Not only had he slept with Belle, but he’d taken her virginity too. No wonder she’d left so fast. She must be so ashamed. God, this was all his fault. His own drunken, selfish, stupid self.

            He should do it. He should kill himself, it was what he deserved. Neal…if he died then he would be with his boy. He would be with his boy and he would know what he had done to Belle. Neal would know. Neal would never forgive him.

            There was no way out of this. His life stretched out before him like an endless road, pockmarked with potholes and misery. It would never end. He would go on and on, living with the loss of his precious boy and the guilt of what he’d done to that innocent girl. And she would have to look at him every day. Worse than that, she would come to him every day to help him because she was too kind hearted to keep away, no matter how badly she wanted to.

            He wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t die, but he could leave. Belle wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. He could make a fresh start without every place in town reminding him of Neal. He could disappear, be just another face, instead of the man who lost his son in a car accident one winter night.

            It took a few phone calls to get his affairs in order. Dove would carry on with the shop and collect rent. He would have the house closed up. He could sell it, but the idea of putting Neal’s things in storage was simply unthinkable. He already had a plane ticket for Boston. Perhaps he’d go further than that, California maybe. Somewhere where no one would know him.

            His flight was at five, Belle always came at six. He knew she would go home first to do her homework. Moe would be at his shop so this would be the best time to talk to her alone.

            He rang the doorbell and waited, hoping his anxiety wasn’t clear on his face. His heart pounded as he heard her footsteps coming towards the door. Maybe it would be better to just leave. She didn’t need to see him again, probably didn’t want to.

            He had just resolved to leave when the door opened. Belle had changed out of the clothes she’d worn yesterday and into a skirt and blouse. She looked so nice, older than her seventeen years even. She smiled at him, always so kind, even when he didn’t deserve it. “Mr. Gold,” she said, “I was going to see you this evening.”

            It was time to rip off the bandage. She would be better off this way.

            “That won’t be possible,” he said, “I’m leaving Storybrooke.”

            Her smile fell away. “You’re…you’re what?”  
            “I’m leaving tonight.”

            “Because of last night?”

            “Because of everything,” he answered instead. He could see the tears forming in her eyes now. “This town is killing me, Belle. I have to go. I’ve lost everything and I won’t ruin you as well.”           

            “Ruin me?”

            “I’m sorry for what happened,” he said, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

            “Are you saying last night was a mistake?” she asked, her voice small and wet with unshed tears.

            “Of course it was,” Gold said. They both knew it, though it was proof of her unending kindness to pretend otherwise. “You have done so much for me and I repaid you in the worst possible way. If I stay, I’m only going to make things worse. You deserve far better, Belle.”

            “But I thought…” a tear rolled down her cheek. He waited for her to respond, but she said nothing. It was for the best, she didn’t need to pretend anymore.

            “I’m so sorry, Belle,” he told her, “I never meant to do anything to you and I hope you can forgive me for what I have done. I truly hope you go on and live a wonderful life. You’ll do far better things than I ever did.”

            “Mr. Gold,” she said his name in a shuddery whisper.

            He saw the tear snaking it’s way down her cheek. His hand worked on its own, reaching out to brush it away with his thumb. “Goodbye, Belle.”

            Gold turned away, relieved that this burden was over, but his heart was still aching inside of his chest. She was all he had left of his son, but he couldn’t destroy her like everything else in his wretched life.

            He was almost to his car when he heart her call out, “Wait. Please, Mr. Gold.”

            He almost turned around, but if he did then he would lose his resolve. He couldn’t drag her down to the depths of his depravity. If he stayed, he might slip up again. He wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved a life, one free of him.

            So he got into his car and drove away. He forced himself to never look back.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            It was always useful to have someone in your pocket, in Cora’s case it was Sidney Glass. The small town reporter had a ridiculous crush on Regina, so it was quite easy to get him to help her in her little investigation. He had high hopes that the way to Regina’s heart was through her mother. Who was she to tell him otherwise? Not when it gave her exactly what she wanted.

            She now had copies of school records, birth certificates, newspaper articles, about Belle French. Sidney had even included the records of her son as well. It was easy to see right away that Miss French had been a very good girl. Her entire school career she never had a tardy or an unexcused absence. There were no trips to the guidance counselor, no fights with any of the other students. Nothing that would indicate that at age seventeen she would get pregnant, derailing her plans to go to college with her perfect grades.

            Sidney’s files indicated that Belle did manage to finish high school after she had her son in December, but the added expense left no room to leave the town. She worked at Granny’s Diner before getting a job as the new librarian just two years ago. She also bartended that the dumpy bar The Rabbit Hole for extra money.

            Sadly, Sidney’s research came up short on what she really wanted to know. The records couldn’t tell Cora about Tristan’s relationship with the girl. She knew from Sarah Ginger that Neal and Miss French had been close. Could it possibly be true then? Was the French boy Tristan’s grandson?

            She thumbed through the papers until she came upon the one she was looking for. The birth certificate of one Liam Neal French, how nauseating. The mother’s side of the birth certificate was full, but the part for the father said “NONE”. Well that was certainly interesting. Why not put Neal’s name on record if that was the case? Cora smile a bit, feeling her hope triumph…until she saw the birth date.

            December 12, 2007. Nearly nine moths to the day Neal died.

            The certainly cut things close. Was a premature delivery possible? There was no mention of it on record. Damn! This proved nothing, but it didn’t disprove it either. Why couldn’t that stupid girl have put a name on record? Any name beside’s Neal would be preferable.

            “Light reading, mother?”

            Cora gasped, looking up to glare at her daughter. “What are you doing here?”

            “I live here, remember?”

            “Don’t you have some business at city hall?”

            “Not today. What are you looking at?”

            “None of your concern.” She quickly tried to stuff the papers back into the folder, but the damn birth certificate slid out. Regina snatched it up from the floor and gave it a cursory look.

            “How did you get this?”

            “I have my resources.”

            “This is illegal, mother.”

            “Oh, and are you going to report me, dear?”

            Regina rolled her eyes and Cora smiled over her small victory. “Well, this is interesting,” Regina admitted, “Are you going to tell Gold about this?”

            “Why would I do that?”

            “This pretty much proves Liam is Neal’s, look at the birth date.”

            “And look at the father,” Cora pointed out, “If Miss French knew for sure that her son’s father was Neal, why not put that on record? Why not tell Tristan?”

            “Neal was dead and Gold left,” Regina reminded her, “She didn’t know she could count on him.”

            “That’s as flimsy an excuse as I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think Tristan would have come back in a heartbeat if he knew he was going to have a grandchild?”

            “Yes.”

            “So why keep it a secret?” Cora questioned. She took the paper out of Regina’s hands and quietly stuffed it back into the folder. “She must not know for sure.”

            “But there is still a chance,” Regina said, “You should ask her.”

            “And what will she say? Of course she’d say he’s Neal’s son, then she’ll get all of the benefits of Tristan’s generosity. You know how single mothers like her are always out for a check. Then what will happen if it turns out Neal isn’t the father? It will be like losing his son all over again. I can’t tell him until I know for sure.”

            Regina pursed her lips, her eyes lingering over the folder. “Get proof, then tell him,” she said.

            “Of course I will,” Cora said, “I’m going to put these away and see what else I can uncover.”

            She patted her daughter’s arm before drifting past her, making her way slowly to Tristan’s office. He wasn’t home at the moment and wouldn’t be back for hours. It was simple enough to locate his shredder. He even had a heavy duty professional one since his line of work included a great deal of paper work. She fished out the copy of the birth certificate and smiled as it sailed through the shredder with a _zip!_ The rest of the papers followed one by one. She even bagged up the evidence for the maid to eventually discard with the rest of the trash. Cora had long since become a master of sabotage. After all, one had to get one’s hands dirty a little in order to get everything they desire.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Friday which meant it was time to collect the rent for Granny’s Diner. Gold had grown to dislike collecting this particular capital. Seven years ago he had found it amusing that Granny and her high-strung granddaughter had glowered at him when he pocketed their roll of sticky cash. But now they glared at him with real venom. He didn’t exactly understand why. Few people in town had liked him before, but these two seemed to particularly hate him now. What had happened to the old woman who had dropped off a lasagna the day of Neal’s funeral? He may have left the overrated dish on his porch until the cats came to devour it, but at least she’d had the compassion then. Where had it gone?

            Granny was by far the worst of the two so it was marginally a relief to see Ruby at the counter of the dimly lit diner. At least the girl had the decency to still fear him. She was wiping the counter down on the side closest to the door. Leroy was situated in the center nursing what was probably his third whiskey.

            Ruby looked up when she heard the bell chime. “You here for the rent?”

            “Certainly not for the food,” he replied.

            She rolled her eyes and abandoned her dishrag on the counter to turn to the kitchen. Her little red shorts concealing not an inch of her legs ad she flounced off. He didn’t dare to take a seat, God knows what mess had been on them, so he just stood there and waited. Leroy took another sip of his tumbler.

            “You know this town was a lot better when you were gone,” Leroy said.

            “Clearly you weren’t part of the welcoming committee,” Gold replied. He didn’t really care that no one liked him. He didn’t particularly like himself most of the time. He didn’t need friends anyways, not when he had no family left.

            “Why did you even come back?”

            Gold blinked at him then shrugged. “Why does that matter?”

            “Just wonderin’.” Leroy took another sip of. “Thought maybe you were actually doin’ the decent thing, but it’s you we’re talkin’ about. You don’t have an honorable bone in your body.”

            Now Gold frowned at him. “Just what are you saying, Mr. Miner?”

            “You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

            “No, I actually don’t.”

            At that moment Ruby returned from the kitchen with a wad of cash tied together with a rubber band. “It’s all here. You want to count it?”

            He dismissed her simply, keeping his focus on the other man. “Explain yourself.”

            “The kid.”

            “Leroy,” Ruby said his name in warning.

            “What are you talking about?”

            “You damn well know, Gold, don’t deny it!”

            “I can’t very well deny anything if I don’t know!”

            “Leroy, go home,” Ruby told him, “Go home before you say something you regret.”

            “I’d very much like to hear him say it,” Gold told her, giving her a sharp look. There was something different besides her usual contempt gleaming in her eyes. Concern, like she was standing on the edge of a frozen pond and cracks were coming straight towards her.

            “You made a shitty father, Gold,” Leroy said. Gold’s blood stopped cold in his veins. “Your own son was disappointed in you. But you’re an even worse grandfather.”

            “What?” Gold asked. Grandfather? He was no one’s grandfather. Neal never had any children. He would have remembered that.

            “Leroy, shut up and go home,” Ruby hissed at him.

            “Poor kid, she was all alone and had to raise the boy. You have all that money and you didn’t give her a dime. Works herself to death in that library because you don’t give a damn about anyone. You never did.”

            His blood started racing again, hot and full of fury. All of that blood pounded in his head. He was certain his face was red now as he gritted his teeth. “What did you say?”

            “Gold,” Ruby said softly, “don’t listen to him.”

            “That girl is saying that my son…” he couldn’t finish it. He had avoided seeing Belle before, tiptoed around her because of what had happened. Now all of that shame, all of that guilt was replaced with rage. She had betrayed him, betrayed his son, used his name to cover up her own misdeeds.

            He stormed out of the diner, forgetting all about the money. It may have been late in the evening, but he knew she was still at the library. He was going to stop this nonsense. Neal deserved to rest in his grave in peace and not used like a dishtowel to clean away Belle’s mistake.

            “Gold!” Ruby’s voice rang out behind him. “Gold wait!”

            “Go away!” he barked at her, “This doesn’t concern you!”

            “It’s not what you think!” He felt her grab the back of his shoulder but her slapped her hand away. “Just stop for a second and let me explain!”

            “Explain what?” he snapped and whirled around to face her, “That Belle was in a tight spot so she used the one name that would get the town to pity her? I won’t stand for this! That child is not my grandson!”

            “Belle never said he was,” Ruby told him, “She never said a word about the father, everyone in this town just assumed.”

            “A likely story,” he scoffed.

            “It’s true! One look at that kid and everyone thought he had to be Neal’s.”

            He let out cold laugh. “I doubt that. People saw what they wanted because she told them it was so.”

            “She didn’t! She went through hell because of this town!” Ruby shouted at him, her eyes dark with anger, “The whispers and the slander. She still gets it sometimes! Not to mention all she had to go through when her dad threw her out! And it’s all your fault!”

            “My fault!” he reiterated. “My fault! I didn’t do anything! It can’t possibly be my—!”

            A chill in the autumn air hit him just as the cold truth did. He stared at Ruby who now had one hand clamped over her mouth as if she could shove the words back in there. He didn’t see her though. He was seeing a young boy with sandy brown hair that curled around his ears, with laughing brown eyes, and a wide smile that dimpled his cheeks. Ruby was wrong. Belle’s son didn’t look like Neal. He took after someone else entirely.

            “My fault,” he whispered. He could feel the blood draining from his face.

            “Gold,” Ruby said, “Gold, please don’t…”

            He didn’t hear her anymore. There was a roaring in his ears the drowned out all thought. His gut churned but he knew it wasn’t because of the way to world was spinning now. His cane was the only thing keeping him upright.

            He didn’t know when he started walking. Suddenly he was in the alley that rested between Granny’s Diner and the pharmacy. He felt the salmon and asparagus Cora had ordered her cook to make come churning up. Thankfully, no one saw him suffer the indignity of vomiting up his dinner behind the dumpster.

            Once the tremors subsided, he took a shaky breath and looked up. The streetlights shone brightly around the library. He could even see a few lights still on inside, beckoning him to enter. A part of him didn’t want to. If he didn’t see her then maybe none of it was true. But he couldn’t let this lie. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. He’d always known he was going to Hell, now he realized just what prized spot he was getting.

            He stumbled his way to the door. She was in there, sorting books onto the shelves as if the world hadn’t collapsed around them. He rapped on the window with his fist. Belle looked up and frowned when she saw him. She set the books aside before walking up and unlocking the door. “Mr. Gold, what are you doing here?”

            He didn’t answer her, just pushed his way inside. Belle shut the door behind her and locked it again. “I’m sorry but the library is closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

            “I don’t want a damn book,” he growled out.

            “Then what do you want?”

            “Your son. When was he born?”

            Belle’s lips parted in slight gasp. “Wh-what?”

            “When was he born?”

            She swallowed hard. “December twelfth.”

            He bit back a curse. “And the father? Who is he?”

            Belle was pale now, the her blue eyes wide with fear. “Gold,” she said softly.

            “Tell me I’m wrong.”

            “Please,” she said, “don’t do this.”

            “Tell me I’m wrong,” he begged her, “Tell me I’m wrong.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, “Damn it, Belle, just tell me!”

            She didn’t say a word.

            The silence kicked him in the stomach. He released her as he tried to gather his breath. The library was spinning now, the silence mocking him because it knew just as well as he did. Liam wasn’t his grandson. He was his son.

            His son.

            He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet. The edge of a table dug into his back and he sagged against it, dropping his cane so he could dig his fingers into his hair. Seven years ago he’d gotten Belle pregnant, a seventeen year old girl. He knew he was monster, but he never knew just how horrible he truly was. “Oh God,” he said, “oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.”

            “I—I know this is shocking.”

            “Shocking?” he said, “Yes, that is one way to put it.”

            “How did you find out?”

            “That doesn’t matter,” he said. Rage was creeping back in. He was always able to think clearly when he was at his most furious. “What does matter is the fact that you never told me.”

            He gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles. “How could you do this, Belle! How could you not tell me! Seven years! You had seven years and you never said a word!”

            “Eleven,” she said calmly.

            “What?”

            “That’s how many times I called you after I found out I was pregnant,” she said. Her blue eyes were ice cold. “After I begged Dove to give me your number. I left you eleven messages. Do you remember how many you answered? None.”

            She stood there, her hands straight at her sides, not even gripping her skirt. She was the epitome of serenity, but it wasn’t peace that made her this way. It was bitterness. It was rage.

            “Then I sent you a letter,” she told him, “I wrote everything down, how I was pregnant and scared and I didn’t know what to do. How I just needed you to talk to me, to help me, to do something so I wouldn’t feel so alone. Four days later it came back: return to sender. You never even opened it.”

            He swallowed as she stepped closer, just one step. Suddenly the table didn’t feel like support anymore. It felt like a wall that gave him no place run. “So that’s when I realized I _was_ alone. I had to do this on my own. My father threw me out, Granny and Ruby were all I had, but they couldn’t do the hard part. That was up to me.

            “So when I had to sell my car to pay for my medical bills, I did it. When I had to go to the thrift store to buy my son’s clothes, I did it. When I had to get a basket from the nun’s food drive because I couldn’t afford groceries, I did it.  I did it all because there was no one else, because you wouldn’t pick up the phone and just to ask me why I called.”

            Belle’s voice was so calm, never raising an octave, but the words cut him like poisoned darts, needling into him again and again.

“I tried to let you in,” Belle said, “I tried but _you_ were the one who left. _You_ were the one who abandoned me here. My best friend was dead and you bolted when I needed you most! So don’t come in here full of self righteous fury because I never told you that you had a son seven years ago. You have no right to do that. It’s _my_ right to be the angry one out of the two of us.”

            She let the words hang between them, the silence ringing with the truth of everything she said. “Now it’s late and I have to go home to _my_ son.”

            Belle walked over to the door, turned the lock, and yanked it open. Gold stood there, staring at her and the open door, somehow forgetting what that all meant. He had nothing to say. There was nothing _to_ say. She had done enough of that for the both of them.

            He bent down and took his cane with trembling fingers, fumbling as he used it to stand. He walked slowly towards her. She never once took her eyes off of him, hot with all of the resentment she still felt.

            He stopped just outside the door and turned back to her. “Belle—.”

            “Good night, Mr. Gold.” The door was slammed into his face and then the lock clicked. She pulled the shades down for good measure. He stood there and stared at the door, not sure if he really wanted it to open or not.

            Better not, he decided. Seven years ago he had woken up hung-over and wondering just what he’d done. Now he knew.

            Now he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Gold finally knows the truth, took him long enough, LOL. Please tell me what you think.
> 
> Next Chapter: Gold sees Liam again this time knowing that is his son, Belle and Gold finally talk but it doesn't go as she had hoped, in the past, Neal finds out that Belle has a crush on his dad.


	6. Chapter 5: An Ugly Shadow Made By Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold and Belle have a long overdue talk about what happened seven years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but it's been a busy summer for me. I think after this week I'll have a lot more time though so hopefully I'll be able to update my fics more often. I hope everyone likes this chapter.

            Gold didn’t remember walking back to his shop and getting into his car. It was no doubt a miracle that he didn’t get into an accident considering he doubt he even saw the road in front of him. It was late so the house was dark, a blessing since he was certain he couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone at the moment. Without any thought or intent, he found himself sitting at his desk with a bottle of scotch. He hadn’t had a sip yet; for once he was too shaken to even indulge in his personal medicine.

            God, what was he going to do? How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before that this could happen? He’d had the talk with Neal when his son was fourteen about condoms and protection; how it only took one time to go from being a dumb kid to a father. He should have realized the bloody obvious truth the moment he found out Belle had a child.

            A child. His child. He was a father. Dear God, how could he do this?

            His phone screamed from the corner of his desk, startling him in his storm of thoughts. He fumbled for it, his fingers shaking as he pushed the answer button. “Gold,” he croaked.

            “Mr. Gold, it’s me,” Dove said.

            “Dove?”

            “Yes, I just wanted you to know that I finished my research on Geoffrey Knight and I’m pretty sure he’s not the guy you’re looking for.”

Gold couldn’t even remember what he was talking about. “He’s not?” he asked blindly.

“No, it turns out Billy isn’t just his best friend, they’re in a relationship. From what I can tell, he only dated Miss French in high school because he didn’t want scouts to know he plays for the other team. I’m pretty sure he can’t be her son’s father.”

He’d forgotten Dove’s assignment to find out if Geoffrey was the man he was looking for, the man who had slept with Belle and abandoned her with a child. Apparently he should have been looking into a mirror instead of her high school yearbook.

            A laugh found it’s way out of his chest, the first sign of madness perhaps. He couldn’t help it. He and Dove had been digging into every man he could think of that might have slept with Belle…every man but himself. Graham was too honorable, Keith was too stupid, and Geoffrey was too gay to have done the deed. Only a truly depraved, worthless soul like him would have hurt her like that, and he’d been too blind to realize it. It was hilarious in a truly horrible way.

            “Uh…Mr. Gold, are you alright?”

He was still laughing, tears brimming from his eyes. “No,” he said, “No, I’m definitely not alright.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Dove was so loyal, so eager to help, that it died off any of the remaining laughter he had left in him. “No,” he said quite seriously, “I’m afraid not.”

            “Should I look into anyone else then?”

            “For what?” Gold asked him.

            “To find out who is the father of Miss French’s child?”

            Gold clenched the phone with white knuckles, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, just forget about that. It doesn’t matter now.”

            He was lying. It mattered now; it mattered more than anything.

* * *

            Belle had waited a good extra fifteen minutes before finally locking the door and leaving the library. She didn’t think Gold would have waited around for her, but she didn’t want to take the chance. She was tired and had no energy to deal with him anymore that night.

            Still, she couldn’t shake his face from her mind as she walked home. He had looked so beaten and ashamed, like a dog being swatted with a newspaper for stealing food from the table. Despite it all and how he had hurt her seven years ago, Belle couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. In some ways she still felt like she had a duty to help him. After Neal had died, she’d sworn on his grave to look out for his dad. She had given up on that when he’d left town and refused to talk to her. Now that he was back, still broken, and despite it all she still felt like she should do something. But Belle had nothing more to give to him. She’d given him her heart and he’d crushed it. She couldn’t give him her son, not if he could hurt him too.

            It left her with little options other than to ignore the ache in her chest and just continue on with her life the way it was. Of course, now that he knew that Liam was his son, how different would her life be now?

            It was a lot to think about. It certainly haunted her with each step she took towards her apartment. She was ready to get home, maybe find a way to pretend like this night had never happened, at least until morning.

            She walked into her apartment and found that both Granny and Ruby were already waiting for her. Granny had been the one watching Liam, but Ruby was a mild surprise. “Hey,” she said when she walked in. “Is Liam asleep?

            Ruby nodded once. There was an unopened bottle of wine on the counter, a very welcome addition for such a rotten night.

“Are you all right?” Granny asked her right away.

            Belle nodded, dropping her purse and keys on the counter. “I guess you both know.”

            “I’m sorry, Belle,” Ruby told her. “Leroy was drunk and made it clear he thought Neal was Liam’s father. Gold got upset so I chased after him and I just let it slip that it was all his fault really. He just put it all together after that.”

            “It’s okay, I knew he would find out eventually. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could keep it a secret forever,” Belle told her.

            “How’d he take the blessed news?” Granny asked.

            “About as well as can be expected.”

            “Which means?” Ruby questioned. She popped the cork on the wine and began to pout it into three glasses.

            “He was pissed,” Belle admitted as she took one glass, “He thought I deliberately kept the truth from him.”

            “I hope you fired back on him for that,” Granny said. She took a hearty swallow of her wine.

            Belle nodded. “I told him everything. I didn’t hold back.” Both Granny and Ruby smiled, giving her props for that, but Belle didn’t take any pleasure in it. His face was still fresh in her mind.

            “So what happens now?” Ruby asked.

            She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. He just left. There really wasn’t much else to say.”

            “Do you think he’ll come tomorrow and talk about this?”

            “Definitely,” she said. Belle looked down into her glass, watching the red liquid ripple as she tapped on it with her fingernail. “He won’t leave things like they are.”

            “Are you going to let him be involved in Liam’s life?” Ruby asked.

            Belle stared at her wine for a moment, wishing the alcohol could somehow give her an answer. “I don’t know,” she said, then took a long drink from her glass. Maybe she should just get drunk tonight. She’d never had before; why not give it a shot?

            “Why?” Ruby asked, “The guy is an ass who knocked you up and then vanished. He doesn’t deserve to be involved.”

            All very true points, ones Belle had considered. Why should she even consider letting Tristan be involved in her or Liam’s life? He had walked out on her, forced her to make hard choices.

            “Maybe that’s true,” Granny said, “but this isn’t just about Gold, this is about Liam. A boy has a right to know his father.”

            “You can’t be serious,” Ruby said.

            “I am. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but believe that if a man wants to be a father then he should, and I believe a son should know his father. I’ve had my own issues with Gold, but he was a good father to Neal. I have no doubt he could take care of your boy, Belle.”

            Belle couldn’t disagree with that either. Neal may have had his issues with Gold, but they were by and large ordinary teenager spats. Gold would have done anything for his son, moved mountains to make him happy. She remembered Neal mentioning how he had gone through an astronaut phase as a boy. His mother had promised to take him to the space center as a birthday present.

            _“My birthday came and went, no mom. All I got was a phone call telling me things got hectic and she’d take me next year. My dad bought tickets to Houston the next day, first class. He got us all exclusive passes to NASA. I even got my picture taken with Buzz Aldrin. It was the best belated birthday ever.”_

            She knew it had nothing to do with the money Tristan had spent, but rather how hard he had worked to make Neal happy that had made that time special to his son. Would he do the same for Liam?

            Belle finished off the rest of her wine. “I guess I’ll just have to see what he wants,” she said, “Granny’s right, this isn’t about me or Gold, this is about Liam. I have to do what’s best for my son.”

            “And you think Gold is that?” Ruby asked, her tone full of doubt.

            Belle took in a breath and sighed. “I wish I could say I knew for sure either way. For now, it’s just a matter of what Gold wants. I can’t make any decisions until then.”

            All she knew for certain was that it was going to be a long night, for her and Gold.

* * *

            It had been a very fine bottle of Cognac that he finished off in his study. No doubt his doctor was going to complain if he found out, but Gold didn’t care. Not only was he a pedophile, but he had impregnated a teenager. To most parents in the country he deserved to be in prison. Hell, he would have said the same thing when he was a father.

            No…not was anymore.

            The memories of that night when he had unwittingly conceived his second child tormented him until finally the alcohol knocked him out. He woke up on the floor with a dry mouth, a pounding head, and stomach tied up in knots. His first thought when he opened his eyes was, _“It’s all my fault.”_

            He had ruined Belle’s life by his own selfishness seven years ago. He had driven Neal away from him and he had died. Every person he cared for he had hurt.

            The door creaked open, screeching like nails on glass. Regina poked her head in, let out a chuckle. “There you are. Mother was wondering what had happened to you. You felt like sleeping on the floor last night?”

            “I’m not in the mood, dearie,” he hissed at her, holding his pounding head in his hands.

            “Clearly.” She walked in, shoving the door back hard. He shot her a glare, but she only smiled. “What happened to you, Gold?”

            “I had a bad night.”

            “You seem to have a lot of those.” He looked up at her, his brow crinkling a bit. He had never been close to his future stepdaughter, but she almost sounded concerned there. “I’m curious,” she said, “Is it my mother that is the problem?”

            “No,” he said, “I received some…alarming news last night is all.”

            “Now I’m very curious,” Regina said, her red lips curved into a grin, “What news could possibly ruffle your feathers, Gold.”

            “Nothing that concerns you.”

            “Well I suggest you take a shower then. You smell like a drunken hobo.” She laughed a little. “You look like one too.”

            “Thank you for the tip, dearie, you can go now.”

            Regina let out an amused, “Hmm” but did start walking towards the door. “I’ll let mother know you’re just a bit worse for wear today.”

            He couldn’t face Cora now. If he did he might tell her everything. Even if he could lie, she would no doubt recognize it straight away. His armor was gone. He needed time to think, to pull himself back together and decide what he was going to do.

            The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to talk to Belle.

            It was close to noon when Gold finally found the courage to leave his home and walk to South Bay Street. His headache was still there, hovering at the corner of his mind. Getting drunk perhaps wasn’t his best idea as that is what had led to all of this to begin with. But with the night’s shock gone, he was left with a bit of clarity. The walk helped clear the lingering cobwebs, but did nothing to assuage the tension that left his heart racing in his chest. The walk also gave him another chance to survey the area and his review was not favorable. He’d never much cared about this area of town closest to the docks. He owned few properties here, other than the cannery and a few shops, because it wasn’t very lucrative as other parts of town. Frequent sailors would rent out rooms and drink when in port, but there was little more than that. So here was where graffiti decorated brick walls, empty beer bottles littered the sidewalk, and he saw more than one passed out seaman lying in the alleyways. It was not a good environment for a child.

            He found that the doorbell to Belle’s apartment didn’t work so he had to knock. He heard some movement behind the door, and then the lock turned before it opened. Belle did not look pleased to see him.

“Hello, Mr. Gold,” she said formally, like they were at a business meeting instead of at her apartment. She was wearing dark blue yoga pants and a pale blue sweater that reminded him of when she was younger. She was only twenty-four, but the wisdom she’d gained in the past seven years made her seem much older.

            “Can I come in?” he asked her.

            “Why?”

            Was she really going to play this game? He supposed he deserved some of this, but she was being a bit petty. “Because we both know we need to talk.”

            She let the door open all the way and then just turned around to walk back to her living room. He took the silent invitation and shut the door behind him. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Liam sitting on the floor playing with plastic green army men and an action figure that he didn’t recognize. He wore blue overalls and a red shirt; the knees were a bit faded from the usual tumbles children took daily. His sandy brown hair was tousled, probably from some mischief he’d made earlier. God, how blind had he been these past few weeks? He should have known he was his the first moment he laid eyes on him. They had the same hair, though Liam’s was curly like his mother’s, the same brown eyes, the same square chin, and the same slightly hooked nose. Liam looked up at him, smiling his mother’s smile and blinking at him with long lashes like Belle’s. “Hi, Mr. Gold.”

            He was so beautifully perfect that Gold couldn’t speak. His throat had closed up and he was certain tears were shimmering in his eyes. Maybe if he wasn’t so perfect, so beautiful, this would be easier, but he doubted it.

            “Liam, why don’t you go to the bedroom and play,” Belle said, “Mr. Gold and I have some stuff to discuss. I’ll have lunch ready soon.”

            “Okay, mommy.” He gathered ups his toys and put them in a little plastic box before taking a stuffed dinosaur and toddling off to a room down the short hall. “Bye Mr. Gold,” he waved. He still couldn’t speak, just stared at the boy before he went into the other room.

            Belle hadn’t waited for him. She had moved into the tiny kitchen and begun to get things out of the cupboard for their meal. She took two slices of bread and then a jar of Nutella before finding a jar of strawberry jam from the outdated fridge. He watched as she smeared the chocolate-hazelnut spread on one slice of white bread. “Nutella and jam?” he questioned, “Why not peanut butter and jelly?”

            “He’s allergic to peanuts,” she said without looking at him.

            Gold felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “So am I.” Somehow that hit him more than noticing they had the same eyes and nose. Perhaps because Neal hadn’t inherited the same allergy. This was his son. Half of his existence came from him. Seven years ago he’d put one child in the ground but now by some miraculous twist of fate he had another.

            Belle cut the crusts off the sandwich then put it on a plastic plate with Superman on it. It was strange seeing her in such a domestic setting. It didn’t seem to compute that the girl he’d helped study for a Trig test was now cutting up apple slices and putting them next to a sandwich for her six-year-old son… _their_ six-year-old son.

            She finished arranging the fruit and sighed. Her whole rigid stance shrank then, whatever walls she was building evaporated. “What do you want?” she asked softly.

            “What do I want?”

            “Yes,” she said, “Why are you here? You wanted to talk.”

            “I…I…” he couldn’t think of what to say. God this was too hard. How does one talk to the woman he impregnated by accident?

            “I wanted to apologize,” he said. She raised one eyebrow, her look clearly telling him to expand. He did have quite a lot to apologize after all. “My actions have been inexcusable. Not only did I use you in the worst way possible, but I let you suffer the consequences alone.”

            “So my son is just a consequence of your mistake?” she hissed.

            “No, that’s not what I meant.”

            “Then what did you mean?”

            “Belle, I’m just sorry,” he said, “I’m sorry for being the ass that took your virginity like that, I’m sorry I abandoned you when you needed me, and I’m sorry that I never returned your calls. I should have taken more care for your feelings, and I certainly should have considered that you could have been pregnant because of me. More than that, I should have known something was wrong when you contacted me.

            “I was selfish,” he said, “I was wrapped up in my own grief and I didn’t consider how any of this could have affected you.”

            “You didn’t force me into anything that night,” Belle said, her voice soft with the memories, “You shouldn’t apologize for that.”

            “I was the adult and it was wrong.”

            “Maybe you were the adult, but I never felt violated or that you had taken advantage of me,” she said, “If anything, I was the sober one, I could have taken advantage of you.”

            “I don’t think the law would agree with you.”

            “I was seventeen, over the age of the consent,” Belle reminded him, “Legally, you did nothing wrong.”

            “Morally, what I did was inexcusable.”

            “Do we really have to argue this?” she questioned with a sigh. “I just told you that I never once thought you did anything wrong when it came to that night. You can feel guilty about that, but I’m telling you that you don’t need to.”

            “But—.”

            “No, they’re many things you should feel sorry for, but that isn’t one of them,” Belle insisted.

            She was right in that there were many things he should feel sorry for, such as getting her pregnant and forcing her to deal with that consequence on her own.

            “Why didn’t you call me back?” Belle asked, softly this time, “Why did you just leave? I kept calling and calling and waiting, but you never replied. Why?”

            The plea in her voice gave him a perfect mental picture of what would have happened seven years ago if he had picked up the phone. Her fear, her pain, her need for help. However, he had no idea what he would have done. Would he have helped her out? Would he have accepted his second child? Or worse, would he have just shut them both out and wallowed in his own selfish grief?

            “I was wrong,” was all he could say, “I thought I was trying to protect you, but I was just being selfish. Seeing you, Belle, it would only make me think of Neal and how I had hurt him. I needed to get away from that.”

            “Instead you hurt me,” she said.

            Gold shut his eyes and nodded. He would always hate himself for that.

            “I don’t care about that right now,” Belle said, “What I need to know is what are you going to do now?”

            He felt his breath catch in his throat, but she kept on talking. “Do you want to be involved in Liam’s life? Are you going to resent him now because he exists? If that’s the case, then you can just go on and leave now.”

            “No,” he said right away, “I would never do that.”

            Belle’s defensive stance relaxed. She shut her eyes and nodded. “All right, so…are you willing to be his father?”

            His gut tightened like bowstring. Oh God, why did she have to ask this question? He knew she would, but why? He knew what he had to do, but this…this was unbearable.

            “Belle…I can’t.”

            Her blue eyes slowly slipped close and then she turned away, one hand going to her mouth. “Please understand,” he begged her, “It isn’t about you or Liam, I wish I could be better for you both, but I am broken. I can’t be a father to anyone now.”

            He voice cracked, tears threatened to spill. “That boy in there,” he pointed to Liam’s room, “he deserves the best father in the world. I can’t be that for him. I’m sorry.”

            Belle raised her head again and turned around. “Okay,” she said.

            “You understand?”

            “I said it’s okay,” she said in response, somewhat sharp. Belle took in a breath and let it out slowly. “I do get it. It would kill me if I lost my son. I know it’s not something that can heal.”

            No. It was like living without a heart. On the outside he looked like a living, breathing person, but he was really a ghost. He had no future, no hope, nothing left inside but scars never shown.

            “Look, I need to feed Liam his lunch,” Belle said, “Since you’ve made your decision, I think it’s best that you leave now. I don’t want to have to explain who you are in this case.”

            He nodded once. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need money? A better apartment?”

            “We’re doing fine.”

            “Belle—.”

            “Please go,” she said, “Our business is done now. You have no reason for being here anymore.”

            She was right. He had said what he had needed to say, apologized for what happened, and offered his help with finances. He guilt was supposed to be expunged.

            It wasn’t.

            “If you need anything…”

            “We won’t,” Belle said right away.

            There was nothing more to be said. She had already given him her back, so he didn’t even get to say goodbye. He left her apartment, waiting to feel something. Relief, maybe? Instead he continued to feel what he always had.

            Guilt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope that wasn't too painful, LOL. Yeah, that last scene hurt to write, but it will all come together soon. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Next chapter: Gold realizes it's impossible to run from your problems in such a small town, Belle considers her own feelings now that Gold knows the truth, and Gold spills his guts to a rather unlikely source.


	7. Chapter 6: The Guilty Conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora continues to worry over the possibility of Liam being Neal's son, Belle wonders why Gold chose to not be involved, Gold finds himself face to face with what he is running from and reveals everything to an unlikely person. In the past, Neal discovers who Belle as a crush on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! After much struggling, I finally was inspired. I hope everyone likes this chapter.

Chapter 6: The Guilty Conscience

 

            A cloud hovered over the Mill’s manor, more specifically, over Tristan Gold. For days he had been even more solemn usual, rarely seen without a bottle of some kind. He was becoming more tiresome than Cora had expected. In Los Angeles he had been subdued, yes, but his return to Storybrooke had seemed to shake him some how. Yes, his son had died and was buried in the local churchyard, but that was seven years ago. Why was he incapable of moving on from that?

            She took another sip of wine and walked over to where he sat, staring into the fireplace with a scotch in his hand. “Darling?” she asked, “You seem rather gloomy lately.”

            “Do I?” he questioned, but it wasn’t a genuine query. He was being…flippant? To her? He never acted this way with her. He only used that tone when he was annoyed with someone, never with her.

            “Tristan, I’m just trying help,” she said, “but if you are going to act this way then…” She turned towards the door as she spoke, making sure she each footstep echoed as she made her supposed exit.

            “Wait,” he called out for her. She smiled to herself, but made sure he only saw a look of hurt when she turned back around. “I’m sorry,” he told her, “I’ve just…it’s been hard for me.”

            “We both knew it would be, but we decided that it could help you,” Cora said. She’d had to beg him for weeks before he’d finally relented to come here.

            “I’m not sure if it is,” Tristan said.

            Something had definitely changed, Cora could see that much. The anniversary of Neal’s death wasn’t for months. She could endure the depression of that day he was sure to wallow in, but this was getting to be excessive.

            Still, she silently counted dollars in her head as she took his hand between both of hers. “Once we are married, you’ll have more good memories of this place. I just wish you could talk to me more. Sometimes I think you see me as an enemy, that you need to keep secrets from me.”

            “Cora…” He didn’t deny the fact he had secrets. Did he know? Not even she had completely uncovered the truth just yet. Had that damned girl told him about the boy?

            “Yes, darling?” she asked, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

            He was silent for a while. She could see him battling something in his mind, a war between what he wanted to do and what he was afraid to do. Yet another reminder of how short he had fallen in the years since their previous relationship. The old Tristan had never hesitated in taking what he wanted. Did one little death really change a man from a bold, take-charge personality to a man afraid to admit what he wanted?

            “No,” he said, “Not yet.”

            A part of her wanted slap him across the face and tell him to be a man but that certainly wouldn’t continue to endear him or his assets towards her. Instead she bent down to kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder. “Whenever you are ready, I’ll be here.”

            She left him to his brooding to make several phone calls. He couldn’t possibly know about that boy yet, not when she didn’t know for sure. Besides, he would have been glad to know a part of Neal was still alive. No doubt, he would raise himself from this dark place and give away his estate to his new heir, leaving her with nothing but a consolation prize.

            No, she needed to know if that librarian slut actually had Neal’s child. Then she would have to make sure Tristan never found out the truth.

* * *

            Work was the only thing that helped Gold to focus, to lose himself and forget just what a terrible person he was. He was acquiring new antiques and talking to collectors. He’d made himself a pretty penny, not that any of it mattered. He’d left the bulk of his assets alone since he had no heirs to bestow them to…or thought he did. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure just how much money he now had. With interest and investments from seven years ago, he certainly had compiled a good amount. He hadn’t thought much about it, but now…

            God, what was a man to do when he both was and was not a father?

            Finding out about Liam and what he had done to Belle was turning him into a wreck. He didn’t sleep, barely ate, and preferred hard liquor as his main beverage. Work was his only solace, though people were proving to be particularly irritating as of late.

            Mrs. Pinsky’s Hummel wasn’t quite as tasteless as she said; a woman who adored cats playing violins would adore such a piece. However, it definitely was not a genuine Hummel not was it an antique.

            “But surely it is worth more than five dollars,” she insisted, “My mother brought this with her from Poland.”

            “Your mother likely bought it at a thrift store for ten cents.”

            “But…but…”

            “I gave my price, but if you feel this trinket is worth more, then by all means fine another buyer. God knows I don’t need another fake Hummel to look at in my shop for three years.”

            The lady wiped tears from behind her glasses and wrapped her worthless figurine back into the tissue paper. He hadn’t bid her goodbye as she left his shop. There was no satisfaction in tearing down the hopes of a sixty-year-old woman, but at least it had kept his mind from wandering back to his own wretched existence. He pulled out his records book and began checking the logs, losing himself in the numbers so he almost didn’t hear the bell of his door ring.

            “No remember, boys, you mustn’t touch anything without asking me or Mr. Gold first.”

            “Yes, daddy,”

            “Yes, Mr. Forrest.”

            Gold looked up from his book and saw a man he didn’t know with two young buys at his side. One had dark hair and resembled him so much that it was clearly his son, the second had his back turned. All three of them wore matching khaki uniforms with green scarves around their necks and little green caps on their heads.

            “Good afternoon,” Mr. Forrest said, “I’m Robin Forrest. I’m the troop leader for the Wilderness Explorers…”

            “I know what you are,” Gold said. He’d bought enough candy bars to make Willy Wonka sick from the Explorers when Neal was a boy.

            “Good,” Robin said, “Well this is my son, Roland, and this is…Liam, come back here.”

            Gold’s heart dropped to his Italian loafers. The boy turned away from the old wooden rocking horse. Oh God, it was really him. Liam was in his shop wearing the same khaki uniform his brother had when he was younger. He could remember when Neal had come home, energized from an afternoon of playing with other boys and preparing for the troops camping trip. It was cruel of fate to do this to him, show him everything he had lost and given up all at once.

            “Mr. Gold? Mr. Gold?”

            It slowly bled through that Mr. Forrester had been speaking to him the whole time, but he hadn’t heard a word of it. “Yes?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from his son for a moment.

            “Well as I was saying, we are selling candy bars so we can go to the jamboree in October. It’s ten dollars a box or three dollars per candy bar. We have chocolate, caramel—.”

            “I know what you have, I’ve done this door-to-door work before,” he cut him off. The sight of Liam kneeling down to re-velcro his sneakers was by far the most hypnotizing he’d ever seen.

            “Oh,” Forrest said with a chuckle, “So you’re a fellow troop dad.”

            All the air left him in an instant. His heart stopped for a moment, then galloped at a breakneck pace. Oh God, oh God, oh God, how was he to answer that? This was cruel! He couldn’t stand there and see that beautiful boy looking so much like Neal, not now. He felt torn in two by the need to pick him up, breath in his scent and never let him do, but also the need to get into his car and drive as far away from Storybrooke as he could get.

            “So how many can we sign you up for?” Mr. Forrest asked him.

            “What?”

            “Candy bars. Do you want any or will you be buying them from your son?”

            He was going to be sick. The whole world was spinning around him and all he could see was Liam, waiting for him to decide what he wanted. If only it were that simple. If only he knew he wouldn’t feel that loss again. What if he found himself standing at another grave, watching another box descend into the cold earth with his future locked away inside.

            “I…I can’t,” he said, looking straight at his child, “I’m sorry, but…I can’t.”

            Gold couldn’t stay in the room. The blood was pounding in his ears, his heart threatening to burst out his chest. He didn’t say goodbye, just ran to the back of his shop and leaned against his desk, gasping for breath. Dimly, he heard the sound of the bell ringing as the door opened and they left. His mind was relieved that they were gone, but his heart ached over the loss. He knew that boy was better off without him.

            If he’d been a better man, a better father, when he could actually be there. Then Neal would still be alive. Gold took a hold of a brass paperweight, enjoying the hefty weight in his palm.

            He was worthless.

            He hurled the weight at an old mirror, enjoying the sound of the glass shattering.

            He was pathetic.

            Gold took his cane and swung it up against a shelf full of ceramic vases and china plates. They smashed against the floor, making a very satisfying crunch beneath his feet.

            He was a miserable…—his cane knocked over a pedestal sink.

…wretched—his hand swatted at a delicate china doll.

…waste of a man. Friendless, childless, hopeless.

            The back of his shop looked like the refuse left in the wake of a tornado. If Liam saw him now, he would run away as fast as he could. Belle would be glad that he had decided not to be in her son’s life. Both of them would be grateful that they didn’t have him in their lives.

            The only one with regrets would be him, but that was the penance he deserved.

* * *

            Ruby has insisted that she and Belle have a “Girl’s Day” since Liam was with his troop and both had the day off, a thing more rare than the Hope Diamond. Belle wasn’t sure if she was up to it, but she couldn’t say no to a friend. Maybe it would help her feel better.

            So she was sitting on the couch at Granny’s inn, watching Hugh Jackman movies, eating popcorn, and drinking hard lemonade. It certainly had all of the requirements for a fun day, but Belel couldn’t seem to focus on the movie, and most of her bottle was still full. She kept replaying the film of her life in her head, rewinding over and over on the recent scene in her apartment when Tristan Gold told her he didn’t want to be Liam’s father.

            On the surface, nothing had changed. She had decided when she had Liam that she would be raising him alone. Most guys were not ready to be fathers at twenty-four, let alone seventeen. Liam was happy and didn’t really know what he was missing. Besides, she’d had a father but he certainly hadn’t been a great parent to her. In this day and age, many children grew up with only one parent and were fine. She knew all of that, and yet she felt like she was seventeen again, enduring her first heartbreak when she watched Tristan Gold walk away from her all over again.

            “Belle, seriously there is a shirtless Hugh Jackman on screen and you aren’t even giving the man his due.”

            “Oh, sorry, Ruby.” She turned her eyes back to the screen, but didn’t really see it.

            Ruby let out a sigh, taking a swig of her lemonade. “Come on, Belle, you shouldn’t let that ass bring you down. Good riddance, I say.”

            “Yeah, I guess,” she said, her thumbnail picking at the corner of the label on her bottle, “It’s just…I guess I always thought he would try…that maybe he’d want to be a father again.”

            “Gold has never struck me as the fatherly type anyways.”

            “You can’t say that. You remember how he was with Neal.”

            “That’s different, Belle. He was practically a different man then. That guy wouldn’t have left you pregnant and never speak to you again. Face it, when Neal died, Gold did too. All that is left is this guy who looks like him, but has no heart left.”

            Certainly Ruby was right in one aspect, a large part of Gold had died with Neal. But to call him heartless seemed unfair. The way he had looked at Liam with tears in his eyes told her he hated himself more than anyone ever could. He had a heart, but it seemed he was afraid to use it, even if it meant hurting himself.

            “You know what you need?” Ruby said, “You need a guy.”

            Belle let out a groan. Not this again. “Ruby, I’m fine with being on my own.”

            “You haven’t been on a date in months. And I know for a fact you haven’t had a boyfriend since you were sixteen. It’s time you got out there and see what other fish are in that big blue sea.”

            Belle put down her lemonade. “Oh, like Jared? The guy you set me up with six months ago who you said was a real catch and actually interested in being a father? The “fish” as you call him who gave me a bunch of religious tracts and said I needed to marry to save Liam’s soul because he was born out of wedlock.”

            Ruby’s smile fell. “Uh, okay, I admit, I was wrong about him.”

            “And Mark, the guy you set me up with before Jared. When I told him that I had a five year old son, he got up in the middle of our entrée to go to the bathroom and never came back, leaving me to pay to the bill.”

            “Okay, so I picked a few bad fish for you,” Ruby said, “Trust me, I’ve dated loads of guys a lot worse than those two.”

            “You’re really selling the idea of dating,” Belle told her dryly.

            “My point is that it happens to everyone,” she explained, “But you don’t give up on it, you keep going out there until you get that great catch. Maybe you should go out with someone who already knows about Liam. Oh! Will is in town, we saw him at the diner. Remember you went out with him a few time freshman year?”

            Belle nodded. “Yeah, we were science partners, we never dated. And the reason he’s back in town is to visit his sister, Alice, before he get’s married next month.”

            “Oh,” Ruby said, grimacing a bit, “Okay, well I stand by what I said. You need to get out there”

            She knew her friend was right, that the only way to really do something was to try. Yes, she’d had bad luck on dates before, but that didn’t mean she should throw in the towel. However, the idea of going out with anyone right now…she couldn’t handle it. All she could think about was Tristan leaving her and Liam. No guy should have to deal with that baggage.

            “Look, I appreciate what you are saying,” Belle said, “but right now…I’m a mess. With Gold back and knowing about Liam, I just can’t focus on anything else right now. I’m not sure what I’m feeling through all of this and I need to sort it all out before I can even think about getting together with anyone.”

            “Okay, fair enough,” Ruby said. She took another sip of her lemonade, but didn’t look back at the TV. “Can I ask you something?”

            “Sure.”

            “Are you over Gold?”

            Belle’s mouth went dry. “W-what?”

            “I mean, it’s been seven years since you guys were anything,” Ruby said, “and really that was just one night, so you weren’t really in a relationship. I guess you had a crush on him then, but it’s not like you were in love with him, right?”

            Belle took a hefty swallow from her drink, enjoying the slight burn of alcohol. There was no way she could answer that question. She didn’t really want to know it herself.

            “Oh look!” Belle shouted instead, pointing to the TV, “Hugh Jackman is shirtless again. That means we take a drink, right?”

            “Yeah, one if he’s shirtless, two if he is wet and shirtless,” Ruby said, dutifully taking her own drink. They returned their focus to the movie, letting the elephant in the room stay in the corner right where he belonged.

* * *

_Seven Years Ago_

 

            Belle was deep into her trigonometry homework when she heard Neal let out a large, Scarlet O’Hara worthy, sigh. “Books are stupid,” he declared.

            “I may have to kill you for that,” she told him.

            “I’m serious, this book is ridiculous and they are talking weird.”

            Belle looked over at cover sitting upside down on the bed. “That’s because they lived in the eighteenth century.”

            “The doesn’t mean it’s not a chick book.”

            “It’s Jane Austen, Neal,” she told him, “Even George IV admired her.”

            “I don’t know who that is but I’m sure he was a moron.”

            Belle rolled her eyes and put her textbook aside. “Okay, what are you having trouble with?”

            Neal pulled out his assignment. “Okay, well it says I’m supposed to explore the theme of love and social expectations in this book. Why the hell would they assign this? Couldn’t we read something with more action? All that happens is this Elizabeth girl and Darcy guy fight and then fall in love. It’s in every romantic comedy out there.”

            Belle shook her head. “You need to think about the theme as a whole. Elizabeth and Darcy come from two different social classes with different goals in life. At first, Darcy puts his social obligations ahead of his desires, but ultimately his love for Elizabeth forces him to put aside his pride and expectations in order to be with her. On the reverse, Elizabeth finds him arrogant and resents how he interfered with her sister’s relationship with Bingley and believes he ruined Wickham’s life. However, once she discovered the truth about Wickham and accepted that Darcy, while wrong, was just trying to help his friend, altered her impression of him and fell in love. It’s all about how first impressions aren’t always right and that love is greater than society.”

            “Well of course you get it,” he said, “You’re not only a girl, but you’ve read every book on the planet.”

            “You don’t have to be a girl or a big reader to understand _Pride and Prejudice_ ,” Belle told him, “It’s a beautiful story about how you find love in an unexpected place. One day, one moment, can change the way you look at someone and you realize that maybe everything you ever wanted was right in front of you all along. Then, you have to hope and pray that they feel the same way.”

            Neal was staring at her now with one brow arched to his hairline. “Well, that was interesting.”

            “Really? You think the book is interesting?”

            “No, it’s just obvious that you were not talking about that book in that moment.” A wide grin broke across his face. “This is about that crush of yours. You still like this guy.”

            “There is no guy,” Belle said. She grabbed her textbook again, determined to bury her nose and burning cheeks into its pages.

            “Yes there is, you have no poker face, Belle, how many times do I have to tell you that.”

Neal flopped down onto his stomach, propping his head up with his elbows on the matress so he was craning his head above the book. “Who’s the guy?”

            “I told you, there is no guy.”

            “Oh please, you might as well just tell me now. I’m going to get it out of you sooner or later.”

            “Neal, just drop it,” Belle insisted, “I’m trying to study.”

            “Tell me who the guy is and I’ll let you study.”

            “There is nothing to tell.”

            “Come on,” he insisted.

            The knock on the door was blessed relief. “Come in,” Neal called out.

            Mr. Gold poked his head in, a stony look on his face. “Neal, how many times have I told you that when you have a girl in your room you keep the door open.”

            “Because the open door would save her virtue how?” he asked.

            Gold shoved the door open the rest of the way, crossing his arms across his chest. “The thin ice you are usually walking on, it’s cracking now.”

            “Papa, seriously, how stupid do you think I would be to have sex with a girl when you are in the house? If I wanted to do that, I’d bring her to the cabin.”

            “Remind me to change the locks then,” Gold said.

            “Papa, it’s Belle,” Neal reminded him, pointing to her, “I’m not sleeping with Belle. She’d kill me if I tried.”

            “He’s right,” Belle said.

            “I’m glad to hear it, but this door is still going to remain open.” Gold gave his son one last look before turning a softened gaze to Belle. “Still studying for trig?”

            Belle gave him a little nod.

            “Do you need anymore help?”

            “No…well I mean… not right now…but maybe later?” Her voice sounded squeaky to her ears, like she’d suddenly turned into Minnie Mouse.

            “Of course, let me know if you need me,” he said, giving her a warm smile, “And I hope my son noticed how lovely you look today.”

            _So this is what a heart attack feels like_ , she surmised while she tried to catch her breath. “Uh…thank you,” she said, barely coherent.

            “I’ll be making dinner, but I can still hear everything going on up here.” He was looking straight at Neal the entire time he spoke. “Just call if you need me.”

            Belle squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to slam her head into her textbook. God, she had sounded like such a moron. He was never going to see her as anything more than a kid if she couldn’t form complex sentences when he was around.

            “Oh my God,” Neal said.

            Belle looked up from her book. “What?”

            “My dad! You have crush on my dad!”

            “I do not and don’t say it so loud, he’ll hear you!” Belle hissed at him, slapping him on the shoulder.

            “You like my dad, it’s written all over your face,” Neal said in a slightly lower pitch.

            “You’re wrong. I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

            Neal pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay, we’ll see about that.” He looked back to the empty door. “Papa! Papa! I need to tell you something about Belle!”

            Belle had only one plan of action: attack. She launched herself across the bed, tackling Neal and slamming her hand over his mouth. “Shut up, Neal! Don’t you dare tell him that! I will kill you! I will kill you dead and then bring you back to life just to kill you all over again!”

            “Uh, what’s going on here?”

            Oh God, she was going to die. Tristan was standing there, seeing her on top of his son with a quizzical look on his too handsome face. Belle slid off of Neal, grabbed her book, and hid her flaming face behind it. If only the bed would turn into a bottomless chasm to swallow her whole.

            “Oh, Belle was just wondering if she could stay for dinner,” Neal said.

            “Of course, she never has to ask. She’s always welcome here.”

            “Great, thanks, Papa.”

            Belle kept her face shielded by her book, holding her breath until she heard his footsteps disappear. She let out a sigh of relief and lowered her book. “I’m going to kill you.”

            Neal let out a laugh. “Really? My dad?”

            “Please don’t tell him, Neal.”

            “Of course I won’t, I’m just… my dad?” The amusement had given way to surprise. “It’s kind of…well weird. I mean, why him?”

            “I don’t know, he’s just…he’s so distinguished,” Belle said, “And his voice is just so beautiful, and the way his eyes just give off this warmth when he—.”

            “Okay, stop,” Neal held up his hand, “Stop right now before I gouge out my own eyes or something like that guy in that Greek play.”

            “Oedipus cut out his eyes because he slept with his own mother.”

            “Well you are contemplating sleeping with my dad, I think he would understand.” Neal grimaced. “God, I don’t want to think about him having sex at all.”

            “I’m not going to sleep with him,” Belle said.

            “Well that’s a relief.” Neal rubbed at the back of his neck and shook his head again. “Still, my dad…wow.”

            “Let’s just forget about it,” Belle said.

            “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

            “Then can we at least not talk about it?”

            “That we can do,” Neal said. He retrieved his paperback copy of Jane Austen’s famous Novel and found the page he’d dog-eared before. “At least now I understand why you wanted my dad to tutor you in Trig when you’re making an A.”

            Belle decided to just ignore him, getting back to her studying. She knew Neal wouldn’t understand, that’s why she didn’t want to tell him. At least the most she’d gotten was some harmless teasing. They would have to talk about this later, there was no doubt about that. For now, it was easier to just put it aside and get back to being just two friends preparing for their midterms.

* * *

            It had been a bad day for Gold. Well, it had actually been a bad week, but this day seemed to cap it all off. He’d taken a risk and bought an antique piece of jewelry and now come to find out it was a fake. His customers had also been particularly annoying and he’d threatened to break a man’s teeth with his cane because he nearly dinged his car earlier. Worst of all, he’d hardly been able to sleep ever since he’d found out about Liam.

            A part of him just wanted to run again, go back to L.A. and try and put this all behind him. Cora was adamant about staying, and even if she weren’t, he knew that wouldn’t end the problem. He had a son and leaving Storybrooke wouldn’t change that fact. The main problem was the guilt he felt every time he saw him or saw something that reminded him of Liam, which was nearly everything. The Storybrooke bank kept up collage of local kid’s art and currently it boasting drawings from the first grade. Liam’s was the one of him and his mother at the wishing well. His picture was on the wall at the hospital to celebrate the local children born there. This town belonged to Liam and there was no escaping the fact that they had adopted his son because he hadn’t been there.

            He was crankier than usual as he collected the rent. He didn’t wait around to hear excuses or demands for more time. He just took the money and left and if they didn’t have it he swore to take their collateral within the week unless they didn’t scrape it up.

            His leg was killing him as he walked up Main Street. Dr. Hopper’s rent for his office was due and then he could go home, down a bottle of scotch and hope to sleep tonight. Granny’s Diner was across the street from Dr. Hopper’s office. He glanced in the direction of the warm diner, just for a second, and then froze.

            Liam was there, sitting in the booth in the window, a bowl of ice cream in front of him. It was seven o’clock on a Wednesday so the diner wasn’t terribly busy. Granny was situated across the aisle on a stool at the bar, laughing as he got chocolate sauce on his face. He was so entranced by his cheerful son that it took him a while to notice whom else was sharing the booth.

            Sitting in the seat across from Liam was little Grace Hatter and her father. Jefferson had a cup of coffee and seemed to be splitting a slice of cake with his daughter. The three of them were clearly enjoying their dessert, no doubt not the first time. So this was who watched Liam on the nights Belle worked at the Rabbit Hole.

            Jefferson reached across the table with a napkin to clean up Liam’s face, then ruffled his wild curls. It was a pretty picture. Any stranger walking by would see a happy family, a father and his two children. But that wasn’t so. That was _his_ son. _His_ son. What right did Jefferson have playing father?

            Then again, what right did he? He’d told Belle Liam deserved a better father, could Jefferson fill that slot? The first answer that came to him was a resounding, NO! But if not Jefferson, then who? One day someone would. Belle would find someone else, someone who would teach Liam how to ride a bike, help him with his homework, give him ice cream when he was sick. All the while he would stand here and watch it all happen. Liam would never know any other father but this man. Not him.

            His son would never know. Liam would never know that his real father was living across town. He would see him every day with some other man pretending to be his father. He would see him being happy, having all of the things every boy should, and it would all be due to someone else.

            Gold didn’t remember walking towards Dr. Hopper’s office. His mind was filled with images of a younger, spryer, better man being a father to his son. No one would ever know the truth. No one but him.

            He knocked on the door while his heart raced inside of his chest. Was he going to be sick again? Dr. Hopper answered the door promptly. “Oh, Mr. Gold. You’re here for the rent, aren’t you?”

            “Why else would I be here?” he asked.

            “Right,” Hopper said, but his eyes betrayed some other emotion. He hurried to get his checkbook and began to fill it out with the proper amount. He looked back at him, still giving him that same look. “Are you all right?”

            “What?” Gold asked him.

            “You seem upset over something, anything you want to talk about?”

            “No,” he told him.

            “You can if you want to. I mean, you’ve endured a lot over the years and sometimes talking about it can help.”

            “I don’t want to talk,” he hissed, “just give me the check so I can go.”

            Hopper nodded and ripped the check free to hand it to him. “My door is always open.”

            Gold didn’t respond, just walked out like he’d done a million times before and he’ll do a million times again. This was his life, all he had left since Neal had died. He would do this again and again and again. Tomorrow he would send Dove to pick up Belle’s check because he was too much of a coward to go to her door. One day she would be with someone else raising his son. What if they left Storybrooke? She and her husband would be having a family with Liam while he continued collecting rent, gathering up his money for no one but himself. Liam would never know and neither would he.

            A wave of dizziness washed over him. His back hit the wall and he just sank to the floor. His son would never know the truth. Liam would be happy with someone else. He had lost another son, but not to death, to another father, a better father. He’d lost his son. He’d lost Liam.

            “Mr. Gold?” Hopper was standing over him, “Mr. Gold, what’s wrong?”

            “Nothing!” he shouted but his voice cracked over the word. His cheeks were wet, had he been crying?

            “Mr. Gold, something is bothering you and I think it would help if you told someone. Is this about your son?”

            Gold broke down in new tears. He would never be able to look at the man in the eye again after this, but at the moment he didn’t care. It was too much. Two weeks was too long to keep pretending that nothing had changed. Besides, Hopper was malleable enough, he wouldn’t tell anyone about seeing him blubbering like a child.

            “I understand you’re still grieving,” Hopper said gently, “Maybe it would help if you talked about Neal.”

            Gold shook his head. “It’s not Neal.”

            “What?”

            “I have a son, Hopper,” he finally said, “Liam isn’t Neal’s son, he’s mine. I slept with Belle seven years ago. Liam is my son.”

            Hopper’s eyes went as round as his glasses, his mouth dropped down to his shoes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Why…” he stopped to clear his throat, “Why don’t we discuss this in my office?”

            Hopper had him sit down on the couch and gave him a glass of club soda because he didn’t keep liquor in the office, more’s the pity. Hopper took a seat across from him. “I must say this is quite shocking. I always assumed that Liam was Neal’s son.”

            “You and everyone else in this town,” he said.

            “May I ask, how did this happen?”

            Gold shut his eyes for a moment. He knew he would ask that, but it still hit him in the gut. “Two weeks after Neal died, Belle came over. She came over every day actually. I was considering…doing something to myself.”

            “Suicide,” Hopper guessed.

            Gold didn’t confirm because it wasn’t necessary. “She came that evening and…well I couldn’t do it with her there. We got into a bit of an argument and she said she was also grieving and in pain and I had been drinking. I just…I just wanted to forget about the pain and when she said that…well it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

            “So it was just the once?”

            “Yes,” Gold told him, “I left the next day. I was so appalled by what I’d done and I thought it best if I left.”

            “And Belle never told you she was pregnant?”

            “She tried. She called me a few weeks later, several times actually, but I never responded.”

            “Why not?”

            “I thought it best,” he told him, “I didn’t want her to be held back by me. I figured if I cut her off, she’d pick up the pieces easier and move on. I didn’t…I didn’t consider that I…that she could…”

            “How did you discover the truth?”

            “Leroy made some comment about me being a terrible grandfather,” he explained, “I thought that Belle was telling everyone that Liam was Neal’s son and I knew that was impossible. I got angry, but Ruby stopped me before I could confront Belle. She then said it was all my fault and…well I finally put the pieces together.”

            “How did you feel when you found out?”

            “Sick to my stomach,” Gold admitted, thinking about how his dinner wound up behind the dumpster, “And angry.”

            “At her?”

            “At first, then at myself for putting her through that.”

            “And how does she feel?”

            “I guess she’s angry with me too.”

            Hopper nodded slightly. “Do you think that’s because you got her pregnant?”

            “No,” Gold said, “I don’t think she regrets Liam, probably the circumstances, but never him. I think she’s mostly angry that I wasn’t there for her.”

            “But you are now?”

            “I…I’m…I want to help, but she…I…” he didn’t know how to even say it all.

            “We’ll get back to that,” Hopper said instead, “Can I ask, how long have you known Liam is your son?”

            “Two weeks,” he answered.

            Hopper’s brows lifted. “Two weeks? This must have been weighing on your mind a great deal.”

            “Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

            “Belle didn’t make any hint at all before?”

            “No,” Gold said, “Well not really. I asked her once about Liam’s father and she said he left town before he was born.”

            “There were so signs at all?”

            “I…I didn’t think to look,” he admitted, “I was ashamed. I wanted to help her, but I felt guilty for what I’d done so I tried to avoid her. I know I should have realized the moment I heard she had a child, but I just…I didn’t let myself think about it.”

            “That’s an interesting phrase you used,” Hopper said.

            “What do you mean?”

            “That you didn’t let yourself think about it. Are you suggesting you consciously kept yourself from seeing the truth?”

            “Of course not!” Gold said, “I wouldn’t have done that!”

            “But you do feel ashamed of not realizing the truth sooner.”

            “Yes,” he said, not eyeing the psychologist with suspicion.

            “You admit that now the truth was out there but you were blind it.”

            “I do.”

            “Then perhaps you didn’t miss the signs,” Hopper said

            Gold shook his head. “That’s absurd, I just told you I had no idea until two weeks ago. I even tried to find Liam’s father myself.”

            “Okay, now that is interesting,” Hopper said, pointing at him with his finger, “So you decided to find Liam’s father. Why?”

            “I told you before, I want to help her. I wanted to help her even before I knew.”

            “Why?”

            “I may be bastard, Hopper, so I can understand most people doubting my charity, but I didn’t expect it to be you.”

            Hopper shook his head, smiling just a little. “No, but you see, nobody is charitably without a reason. It could be a need to expunge guilt, a publicity stunt, or grief because of a tragedy. You had a reason for helping Belle, what was it?”

            “She needed help,” Gold told him, “I saw she was struggling, despite her efforts to hide it. I needed to do something, she’s my responsibility.”

            “So you are saying even before you knew about Liam, Belle was your responsibility,” Hopper stated, “Why would you be responsible for her at that point? She was no relation to you, she had friends who were helping her. Certainly you felt guilty for what happened, but that was seven years ago. That should have just led to awkward interactions rather than your need to provide her more security. In every way, she was not your responsibility and yet you say she was.”

            “She was,” Gold said, “She is.”

            Hopper nodded and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Mr. Gold, I think the moment you found out Belle had a child your mind registered the possibility he was yours. When you first saw him, what did you think?”

            “I…I was surprised,” he admitted, “I thought her son would be younger, three at most.”

            “Did you ask her that?”

            “No, I didn’t really want to stay.”

            “Why not?”

            “I guess I was uncomfortable.”

            “Why?”

            “You know, it would be so much easier if you told me what you think rather than asking me ‘why’ over and over.”

            Hopper was far too patient of a man. It always bothered Gold that he could never imagined Hopper ever agitated by anything. A nuclear holocaust could strike, and Hopper would be as calm as could be.

            “My point is that you felt uncomfortable in that moment. I think you subconsciously recognized the likelihood that Liam is your child.”

            “Are you calling me a liar?” Gold asked, confusion giving way to new anger.

            “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s like studying for a test. You may feel overwhelmed by all of the information and feel like you haven’t learned anything, but subconsciously all of the information is there. You just don’t realize it all at once, but in bits and pieces as you need it.”

            “So what you’re saying is I did know, but I also didn’t.”

            “Finding out that you have a son is a lot to take in,” Hopper explained with the gentleness of a teacher, “You’re still grieving for the loss of Neal and the knowledge that you conceived another child on the heals of his death would undoubtedly fill you with guilt. Your mind recognized the likelihood, but shielded you from recognizing the information right away. Instead, it slowly let you uncover the truth with your quest to find Liam’s father, which ultimately would lead to you. However, when put under pressure by outside forces, you put it all together prematurely.”

            “So I did know, I just wasn’t ready to know,” Gold said.

            “Yes,” Hopper told him, “And don’t see this as cowardly, it’s common. As I said, you experienced a traumatic loss that many find difficult to overcome. We all need time to process new information. Finding out about your son would take some time to understand and accept.”

            It all made sense and certainly helped him to understand how he could have missed such a thing that should have been obvious to him. It didn’t change the situation though. The guilt was still there, the fear, the bitterness he had towards himself.

            “So what happens now?” Gold asked him.

            “I think the only way you can work all of this out is if you keep coming here,” Hopper told him, “I won’t tell anyone what you have told me, and I think I can help you come to terms with all of this. You need help, Mr. Gold. To be honest, you needed it seven years ago, but these recent events have been a breaking point for you.”

            “I suppose you have a point there.” He couldn’t deny it, not when he broken down in front of Hopper’s door. “I’ve never really believed in therapy,” Gold admitted.

            “Well then,” Hopper said with a smile, topping of his glass of club soda, “I’m happy to convert you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Gold has told Hopper everything and agreed to his help. Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Next Chapter: Cora continues to dig in the wrong place, Gold continues his therapy, Belle argues with Gold, and an unexpected event leads Gold to making a momentous decision.


	8. Chapter 7: A Change from Deep Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold talks to Hopper about the worst day of his life. Belle and Gold have a fight which leads to Gold feeling things he thought were long buried. A crisis hits home that has Gold coming to a very important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long. I've started student teaching so that has taken up most of my free time. I do hope you enjoy this long chapter though!

            “You’re wrong,” Gold said, not for the first time since he had begun his twice-weekly sessions with Dr. Hopper.

            “Why do you think that?” Hopper asked.

            “Because you are.”

            “That isn’t very specific.”

            “I do not think I am like my father, thus you are wrong,” Gold said.

            “I never said you were like your father, I just asked if you thought you were.”

            “I don’t.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Do you always answer everything with a question?”

            Hopper have him a patient smile. “Ian, I’m just trying to get you to open your mind to possibilities. You did not have an ideal father.”

            “You can say that again,” Gold told him dryly.

            “He abandoned you as a child. Perhaps your guilt stems from a similar well. You feel like you are abandoning Liam, much like how your father abandoned you.”        

            “My father left me because he didn’t care about anyone but himself. I didn’t abandon Liam. I just acknowledged that he would be better off without me.”

            “You don’t think your father felt the same?”

            “My father never cared what happened to me. I was just a burden to him bestowed by my mother who had the fortune of dying when I was born.” Gold gave him a positively poisonous look. “I am not my father. I only want what is best for Liam.”

            Hopper made a note in his book and nodded. “It was merely a postulation, Mr. Gold, you know your own thoughts and feelings more than anyone. But there is one things that puzzles me.”

            “What?”

            “Why do you feel like you wouldn’t be a good father to Liam? Certainly you could be a better father than your own.”

            “A rabid wolf would have been a better father than mine,” Gold said.

            Hopper couldn’t help the amused smile on his face. “Be that as it may, you still insist that you would not be a suitable father. Why is that?”

            Perhaps Hopper didn’t know just what he was asking, though Gold suspected he very much did. His whole world had changed in the blink of an eye seven years ago. It was one moment that had shattered the allusion that he had that he was a good father, a good man. He hadn’t told anybody about that, not even Cora. Belle didn’t even know the whole story. The one person who did was dead.

            “We fought,” Gold began, “We had been fighting more that year than we ever had before.”

            “You and Neal?” Hopper asked. Gold nodded once. “Fighting is natural in any relationship.”

            “We fought before,” Gold agreed, “but this was different. He used to tell me everything, but now he was…distant. I thought maybe he was nervous about graduating and the future, so I tried to talk to him about it. I helped him fill out his applications for college, discussed his options.”

            “Did it help?”

            “No,” he said with a shake of his head, “Many of our fights revolved around that. He didn’t want to talk about college or what careers he wanted to explore. I thought maybe he was reluctant to leave Belle behind.”

            “Were they dating?”

            “I think so,” Gold said, “He asked her to the dance. I had always assumed one day they would get together, but Neal rarely talked about him and Belle. He hardly talked to me about anything those last few months.”

            “Did you ever find out why?”

            He nodded once. This was the crossroads of his story. Did he dare dredge up the memories of the worst night of his entire life or did he try and block it all out as he had done for the past seven years? Running from it all had led him to impregnating a seventeen-year-old girl and having a breakdown in front of a near stranger.

            “He got early acceptance into Harvard,” Gold said. “I was so proud of him, but he…he didn’t seem to care. I asked him, no I _begged_ him to tell me what was bothering him. That’s when he finally said it, what he wanted all of this time. He said he didn’t want to go to college, that he wanted to backpack around the world, take pictures, try and make it as a photographer.”

            “Sounds risky,” Hopper said.

            “It was insane! Neal is a smart boy; he was accepted into Harvard. You don’t just say no to Harvard.”

            “I imagine not many people do.”

            “No they don’t. I told him that he was being ridiculous, that he needed to plan out his options, to really consider what he wanted to do with his life. He said he had thought about it and this was what he wanted to do.

            “I was furious. I told him he was throwing his life away, that he would wind up eating out of dumpsters within a month and begging for me to bail him out. He said he didn’t care about my money and that he wasn’t afraid to suffer a little as long he did what he had always wanted to do. He didn’t care if he didn’t make it big or if he ever made it at all, he just wanted to have this adventure.”

            Hopper nodded. “I can see how as a parent you would feel his plans as dangerous and illogical.”

            “That’s the polite way of putting it,” Gold said.

            “I assume you didn’t put it that way.”

            “You would be right,” he said, “We had a big fight, the worst we ever had. I told him he was throwing his life away, he said he didn’t want to wind up hated by everyone like me. I told him that being successful was worth a lot more in life than having friends. Then he quoted that asinine Capra movie with Jimmy Stewart.”

            “No man is a failure who has friends,” Hopper said.

            “Yes, that. Obviously Capra didn’t grow up with con man for a father and a hungry belly every night.”

            “You think Neal was wrong then?”

            “No…he just never had to worry about money and the future before. He’s young, he’s impetuous, he’s…”

            He was dead.

            It hit him all over again. His son was gone. For the past seven years he’d never been able to get that painful fact out of his mind, but tonight…he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that Neal was dead.

            “How?” Hopper asked. It was a one-word question that only had one meaning behind it.

            Surely the man had read the papers. It was a small town. Before breakfast of that horrific day, everyone had known just how Neal Gold had died. But this wasn’t about the details, this wasn’t about the papers, this was about him.

            “I told him he was going to Harvard and that he was majoring in something actually worthwhile,” Gold said, “Neal told me he would go to hell before becoming a miserable, unloved bastard like me. Then he stormed off. I closed myself off in the study with a bottle of brandy and an antique clock in need of fixing. I didn’t realize how late it was until I heard the doorbell ring.”

            It had been 11:34 on March 8th when his entire life crumbled into dust. He had answered the door, thinking Neal had forgotten his house key again and was ready for round two. Finding Deputy Graham at the door had been like bucket of ice water being thrown on his face in the middle of a blizzard. He had known immediately that something was horribly wrong.

            He could still remember those awful words. _“I’m sorry Mr. Gold, but there has been an accident.”_

            “An accident,” he said, “that doesn’t fit. It was so much worse than that. There is no word to describe learning that your son’s car slid on ice and smashed into a tree. There is no word for having to go to the morgue to identify his body. No word for being told that I should take comfort in knowing he died instantaneously. There is no definition that matches the way a parent feels when they lose their child.”

            It was all finally said. There was no great feeling of relief, no magic pill of peace, just a strange emptiness at having finally unburdened himself. It was better than the twisting gut at least.

            “Thank you for sharing that,” Hopper said, “I can see how difficult it was.”

            “Excruciating.”

            “I’m sure you were hoping that telling it would make you feel better.”

            “Shouldn’t it?”

            “It’s going to take more time before you feel better, Mr. Gold,” Hopper told him, “We all have our on scars we need to work through. There is no medicine to help us get over our pain, we just have to give it time and take it one step at the time.”

            “That’s all well and fine, but how do I live with myself in the meantime?”

            “What is weighing you down at the moment?”

            “Guilt,” Gold said with a sigh, “I want to do something to help Belle, but she won’t let me in.”

            “You did say you didn’t want to be in Liam’s life.”

            “I said I couldn’t,” Gold reminded him, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t have some responsibility for them.”

            “But since Belle already said she didn’t need anything from you.”

            “She’s working in a goddamned bar being groped every weekend because she has to pay her water bill.”

            “And you feel guilty because you feel like you put her there?” Hopper guessed.

            “Well she would have graduated from college by now if I hadn’t been thinking with prick seven years ago.”

            “Don’t you think she had a choice that night?” Hopper asked, “Just like she chose to have Liam, she also chose to sleep with you.”

            “She didn’t choose to sleep with me, she felt sorry for me.”

            “Did she say that?”

            “She doesn’t have to.”

            Hopper scribbled something else on his notepad, probably about how pathetic he sounded. “You want to find away to atone for sleeping with her.”

            “And for getting her pregnant and ruining her life.”

            “So you think having Liam has ruined her life?”

            Gold stopped short. That perfect boy? “No,” he said, “Liam couldn’t ruin anything.”

            “How do you feel about him?”

            “How do I feel? I…I don’t know what you mean.”

            “Just think about it for a moment. Do you think he was a mistake?”

            “Of course not,” he said immediately.

            “You never talk about him. Perhaps you should.”

            “I don’t know how to talk about him,” Gold said.

            “What about the last time you saw him then.”

            “He was in the diner…with Jefferson Madden,” Gold said, the man’s name coming it out in something akin to a snarl.

            Hopper’s brows rose and he tilted his head. “Obviously that bothers you.”

            “Do you know if he is dating Belle?”

            “Unfortunately, I don’t. Does that matter?”

            “Well if he is going to be Liam’s father, I feel I have a right to know.”

            “That’s a rather big leap,” Hopper noted, “You think Jefferson will one day marry Belle?”

            “Someone will and he will be Liam’s father.” God he needed a drink now.

            “That bothers you.” It wasn’t a question.

            “Wouldn’t it bother you?” Gold asked, “Another man is going to be called daddy by that boy.”

            “But you said you didn’t think you could be a father to him. Surely if someone else is willing…”

            “He has to be good enough!” Gold spat.

            “And who is? Why don’t you tell me what type of man you would want to be Liam’s father?”

            It was bad enough that he had to think about it while drunk, but now Hopper wanted him to actually talk about him. “Just someone better than me,” he said. That was enough.

            Hopper made another note. “We are almost out of time, but I just want to ask you one more thing.”

            “All right.” What could be more painful than this session already?

            “Do you love him?”

            “What?”

            “Liam,” Hopper asked him, “Do you love him?”

            Everything inside him froze. That question hit him harder than the prompts about Neal’s death. He tried not to think about Liam too much because it hurt. Even more, he tried not to think about _why_ it hurt. But there it was, the question he was too afraid to ask himself.

            “I…I…I can’t,” he said, leaping from his seat without even feeling his bad knee, “I need to go.”

            “Mr. Gold, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Hopper said.

            “No, it’s fine, I just need to get home. Cora is waiting for me.” He bolted from the office without saying goodbye.

* * *

 

            It was bank day, both a blessing and a curse. Belle was always glad to put her paychecks into her account, but it was once again a reminder that her savings were still not where they needed to be. No matter how much she scrimped, it was only enough to just get by. Liam never complained, such a dear little boy. Perhaps he was too young to understand the world and it’s trials with money, but he still never asked for the shiny toys his friends had or asked why they didn’t live in a big house. He was happier with the simple things, like fifty-cent toy cars and army men.

            Belle shoved away that nagging voice in her mind that told her about all of the things her son was missing out on. There was no point in listening. She could only deal the cards she had and not try and beg for more.

            Storybrooke only had one bank and most people were paid on Friday so the line at the bank to deposit was a long one. While other banks had mobile apps so their customers could avoid the line, Storybrooke offered a bowl of dum-dums as an apology.

            So as she wasted her lunch break in the dimly painted walls, Belle pulled out a book and began to read. It was a trashy romance novel that Ruby had insisted her read, but she had to admit, it was mildly entertaining. She found herself so absorbed in the rather exorbitant drama that she didn’t notice the line move until someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Oh, sorry,”

            Belle moved up in line and then turned to give the person an apologetic smile. Her whole body froze as her blue eyes met an identical set. “Dad,” she said, “I…I didn’t know you would be here.”

            “Just making a deposit,” he said.

            “Me too.”

            It was strange how far the gap was between them now. As a child, Belle had always been close to her father. It wasn’t until after her mother died that things began to change. The grief hit Moe French hard. Not even moving to Storybrooke had shaken the pain from him. Perhaps if Collette had lived things would have been different for them. They wouldn’t be near strangers now.

            “Liam is well,” she said.

            Her father said nothing. He had only seen his grandson a handful of times. If this was a movie, the birth of his grandchild would have moved him beyond reason and he would have welcomed her back with open arms. Reality was a different story.

            “Is the shop doing well?” she asked.

            “Well enough.”

            “So are we,” Belle said.

            “I’m sure now that Gold is back that is true,” she heard him mutter.

            Belle shook her head softly. “Please, dad, can’t we move past this?”

            “I told you what you should have done seven years ago,” Moe said, “You refused.”

            “It was my choice,” Belle reminded him.

            “You could have been more.”

            “This is what I wanted.”

            It was the same argument as before. In a moment she was seventeen again, fighting back tears as she told her father once and for all that she wanted to keep her baby with or without his help.

            Belle turned away again, doing all she could to ignore the pain her heart. They had both made their own choices. She couldn’t make him change his mind, not until he willed it.

            It was relief when it was her turn to go to one of the tellers at the counter. Belle greeted her and handed over her checks and deposit slip. The teller showed little interest, just feeding the slip through the machine and handing it back to her. “Have a nice day,” she said in her monosyllabic voice.

            “Thank you.” Belle took her slip and checked her balance. She blinked once. Twice. The numbers never changed.

            “Uh, excuse me,” she said, hurrying back to the counter, “But I think there has been a mistake. My balance last time was a little over three thousand. How can I now have ten thousand more dollars in my account?”

            “Give me your account number again,” the teller said. She diligently typed the numbers into the ancient computer. “It looks like there was a transfer of ten thousand dollars added into your account this week.”

            “That can’t be right,” Belle said.

            “It’s in our records.”

            “But I don’t have ten thousand dollars,” she insisted, “I’ve never even seen ten thousand dollars. How can I suddenly have transferred ten thousand dollars into my account?”

            “Ma’am, I need to see to other customers,” she said.

            “But how can…?” the answer came to Belle in a cold rush, followed swiftly by a rolling heat of rage. There was only one person in the town of Storybrooke who had ten thousand dollars to spare. Only one person who would slip through the usual loopholes and casually fill her bank account.

            Belle balled the deposit slip into her fist and stomped out of the bank. The door slammed shut behind her.

* * *

 

            Gold sat in the back of his shop, staring down into a large magnifying glass. His fingers gripped a pair of tweezers as he worked on resetting a ruby into a delicate earring. He had been spending more time in the shop in recent weeks. The Mill’s mansion was just too…cold. It was more like living in a mausoleum than a home. Regina seemed to prefer being at the city hall and Cora…well he didn’t really know what was going on with him and Cora. It was very stagnant. He didn’t really feel the need to be with her and she never complained that he was gone. Perhaps that should bother him, but he truly had more important things to worry about.

            He wasn’t sure what he should do now. He needed to make amends, but Belle wanted nothing to do with him and rightly so. He couldn’t just shuffle on like nothing had ever happened. Even if he couldn’t be Liam’s father, he still had a responsibility to help him and his mother.

            The bell above his front door let out a violent jingle just before he heard the door slam against the wall. “Tristan Gold, where are you!”

            It was unmistakably Belle and she was most definitely furious.

            Her steps pounded the floor, rattling everything in the glass cases. The curtain whipped back, giving him the first glimpse of her small body shaking with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she shouted.

            “I’m not sure what you mean?” he asked her. He never knew tiny Belle French could be so imposing. Even in heels, she barely reached his chin, but now it was as if she had grown to the size of a Roman colossus.

            “You put ten thousand dollars in my bank account!”

            “Ah, that,” he said.

            “Yes, _that,_ ” she hissed, “I told you I didn’t want your money.”

            “I know you’re being stubborn…”

            “Stubborn? You think this is just me being stubborn? Fine! I think this is you just trying to pay me for services rendered.”

            “Of course not, how can you think that?”

            “What am I supposed to think?” Belle asked him, “You said you didn’t want to be involved with Liam and I said I didn’t want your money. If you want to give me your money out of guilt because of what happened then you might as well have left it wrapped up on a nightstand in a seedy hotel room.”

            “Now you’re just being dramatic,” he said.

            “Don’t change the subject. You can’t just come back and try to buy away your guilt. That is your problem, not mine. I don’t want your money; I never wanted it.”

            “Then what do you want from me, Belle?” he asked her. As the silence fell between them, he realized it was the first time he’d ever really asked her that. What did she want? Did she want him to leave Storybrooke and never speak to her again? Did she want him to reopen old wounds and try to be the man he could never be again?

            He stood there, looking back into her clear blue eyes still shining with anger and he felt…something. A thrill of heat flickered in his belly, a tingling in his blood. Could it be…? No! This was Belle! A very angry Belle who wanted nothing from him. He couldn’t be attracted to her. What sort of man did that make him?

            Belle took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said softly, “I don’t want your money. You take that out of my account and let me carry on with my life. It may not be as rich as the one you have, but I built it myself and I’m proud of it. I don’t need you trying to make it all better for you because it isn’t good enough for you.”

            “That isn’t what this is about,” he said, “I’m holding myself responsible for my actions, Belle. You and Liam…you’re still my responsibility.”

            “No we’re not. I am an adult and Liam is my son. I am responsible for myself and for him. I told you before that you don’t need to feel guilty for anything. I can’t control your own feelings, but I can tell you that putting money on it isn’t going to solve anything.”

            “But Belle…”

            “No,” she said again, “Just stop! You can’t keep doing this! We both made our choices! I’m living with mine and you need to do the same!”

            She turned away, swatting away the curtain as she stormed out of his shop. The sound of the door slamming again rang through the emptiness that followed. For a long moment, Gold just stood there. So many feelings warred within him: guilt, pain, regret, a little bit of the unmentionable as well. More than that, he was struck with an even greater determination. Belle was wrong. He still had a duty towards her and their child. He would have expected that from Neal if a similar situation had arose and he would damn well do the same.

            Gold shoved away the unpleasant feelings; focusing instead on the one he needed right now. He wasn’t going to let Belle’s pride hold her back. He had made many mistakes before, but letting her and Liam suffer would never be one of them.

* * *

 

            It took all of his control to not march over to the library and tell Belle that she was keeping the money. They weren’t near done yet but he did admit it would be better if she cooled down first. School was out now, likely she was busy so there was no need to bother her. Gold left the shop in Dove’s capable hands. The rent needed to be collected, but more than that, he needed a walk to clear his head.

            What was going on with him? His blood had cooled, but his mind was still a bit rattled from that strong thrill of arousal before. After Neal had died, even before in truth, desire had played little part in his life. He had never been a man led by his cock. He’d had one other partner before Milah and then no other until Cora. Belle was the first time he’d ever been part of a one-night stand, though he hated that label. Was he so depraved that a small part of him enjoyed having deflowered her seven years ago? It was barely legal what they had done. There was no sense in taking pleasure from what had happened.

            He tried to shove all of this out of his mind as he walked. It was the cheerful clamor of children that finally stole his interest. He was close to the playground, a popular spot for the younger residents of Storybrooke to release their energy after school. He thought about turning away, but his feet remained rooted to the sidewalk. He wanted to know…yes, there he was.

            Liam was chasing Grace Madden up the jungle gym where they raced on the dual slide before running back for another turn. Gold couldn’t stop the smile turning up the corner of his mouth. He was such a cheerful boy, bouncing with life and innocence. A sharp sting came from the center of his heart. This was not his doing. It was all Belle. He had no place here.

            “Fancy seeing you here, Gold.”

            The pain faded, replaced by a bitterness that consumed him. Gold glared at Jefferson, his replacement. “I felt like a walk. Is that wrong?”

            “Not at all, but I wouldn’t expect to find you here. It’s not exactly peaceful with kids screaming all over the place.”

            “I’m fine with it,” he hissed.

            Jefferson shrugged, “Okay then.” There was a moment of silence before Jefferson broke it by asking, “Are you glad to be back in Storybrooke?”

            “It’s fine.”

            “You certainly seem to have a vested interest in Belle.”

            “What is that supposed to mean?”

            “Well I noticed your man sniffing around and asking questioned,” Jefferson said, his eyes twinkling the same way a boy does before putting a whoopee cushion under a teacher’s chair, “Appears to me you are up to something.”

            “Oh? And what is that?”

            “If I had to take a guess, I would think it would have to do with Liam. You have a profound interest in him.”

            “What gave you that idea?”

            “Come on, Gold, don’t play dumb,” he said with a grin, “I pride myself as keen observer Not to mention I’m a confidante of Belle’s.”

            There was another spurt of bitterness, something dangerously close to jealousy. Yes, Jefferson was close to Belle, maybe even dating her. That shouldn’t bother him, but it did. Worse than that he was the closest thing to a father Liam had. That just wouldn’t do. Could it be that Belle had told him everything? Was she that close to the man?

            “What do you know?” Gold demanded.

            “What do you think I know?”

            “Don’t play with me. You know, don’t you? She told you!”

            “Belle has told me many things.”

            Gold’s blood pounded in his ears. “I can’t believe she told you that I’m Liam’s father,” he growled, the sting of betrayal was fierce.

            Jefferson grinned at him. “She didn’t. You just did.”

            Gold’s jaw dropped to his chest. “You tricked me!”

            “Yes I did,” he said proudly.

            “You bastard!”

            “Now that is certainly calling the kettle black.”

            “How did you know?”

            “Well if anyone else in this town actually thought about it, they would realize that there would be no reason for Belle to hide the fact of Liam’s paternity if Neal was the one who did the deed.” He smirked at him. “I also noticed that she avoided any mention of you as much as she could. It was easy enough to put it all together.”

            Gold seethed, chiding himself for underestimating this man. If Jefferson could figure it out, how long before the rest of the town learned the truth?

            “Don’t worry, Gold,” Jefferson said, reading his fiery expression, “I won’t tell anyone.”

            “You breathe one word of it and I will make sure there isn’t even a fingernail of you left to find.”

            Jefferson only smiled and used his finger to make an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

            Promises meant little to Gold, but he had not reason to doubt the man. Still, he might have Dove find some little skeleton to hold over the man’s head just to be sure.

            “You should be proud, you know,” Jefferson said, “He’s a good boy.”

            Gold looked over and saw that Liam had abandoned the slide in favor of the swings he laughed as he pumped his little legs as fast as he could. “Yes he is,” Gold agreed wistfully, “but not by my doing.”

            It shattered his heart to know that his son was perfect without him, better for it. One day he would have a father that would shape him into a man, a better man than he. He couldn’t watch that. When the time came, he would leave and let his son live and thrive. He would never know about his real father, the failure.

            Gold slipped away from the park, desperately trying not to shed the tears that stung his eyes.

* * *

 

            The sound of the lock clicking into place filled Belle with relief. It had been a long day. She should have closed hours ago, but Regina had insisted she take an extensive inventory of the books. Belle already knew the library from _Elmo’s ABC’s_ to Proust’s _Swan’s Way_ , but Regina said the inventory was necessary if the town was to consider providing more funding for the library, something Belle desperately needed. So now it was 8:13 in the evening and she was finally going home. Thank God Ruby had agreed to watch Liam. She smiled at the thought of her son. A least she had finished in time to tuck him in after his bath. Maybe she’d let him stay up later and watch a movie, a little treat for just the two of them since tomorrow was day off for them both.

            The _tap, tap, tap_ , of a cane soured her good mood. Belle considered pretending he didn’t exist, but Mr. Gold was a force that refused to be ignored. “Good evening, Miss French,” he said casually though she refused to look at him.

            “Have you really decided to follow me?” she threw back at him in return.

            “I assure you this is fortuitous timing,” he said, “I was collecting the rent from the hardware store.”

            “Good. Now you can go to your next property and let me go home.”

            “Since you are here, I was hoping we could talk about yesterday.”

            “No,” she said.

            “Belle, please. Think about this.”

            “No.”

            “I know your financial situation. At least let me help.”

            “My finances are my business,” she told him. Despite his cane, he still managed to catch up to her. When he was determined, nothing could hold him back. “I would appreciate it if you let me deal with them on my own.”

            “But you don’t have to. Just let me help you out a bit.”

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because you don’t really want to,” Belle told him, “You just feel an obligation to hand me a check to soothe your conscience. I know you feel guilty for what happened seven years ago, but giving me money isn’t the solution.”

            “Then what is?”

            Belle stopped and let out a breath. “I don’t know,” she replied, “But I don’t want your money. If I took it, then I would have to explain myself to Ruby, Granny, and even Liam. Since you don’t want to be his father, then I don’t think it’s right to tell him.” She’d endured the unanswerable question of why Tristan Gold didn’t want her, she wouldn’t let her son suffer that same torture.

            “So if I told you I was ready to be his father then you would take the money?”

            “No,” Belle told him, “at least not for me. But Liam…” She remembered seeing him at little Peter Welsh’s birthday party, the beautiful scooter he got and the GameBoy. She could never afford those for Liam. And when he got older and wanted to go to college…it was enough to keep her up at night.

            “It doesn’t matter,” Belle said, shaking those thoughts away, “You said you don’t think you could be a father again and I get that, I really do. So I think it’s best if you just stay out of our lives and carry on with yours.”

            He was never a tall man, but in that moment he seemed even smaller than he was, shorter even than her. Her gave her the barest of nods. She waited for the relief to come but it was conspicuously absent. She had never let herself imagine Tristan Gold coming back into her life because she knew she would fantasize him ready and willing to be the father Liam needed. She knew that wouldn’t happen. But still, Belle realized a part of her had hoped all along that maybe, just maybe, he would. It hurt to know she had been right before.

            “Belle, can you do one thing for me?” he asked just before she turned away.

            “What?”

            “Please tell everyone Neal isn’t Liam’s father,” he said, “I…I don’t think its fair to his memory. He…he was a better man than me, he shouldn’t be remembered like this.”

            “I never told anyone that Neal was Liam’s father,” she said, “Everyone just assumed.”

            “Why didn’t you tell them before?”

            “You mean the truth?” Belle asked him, “That I slept with you two weeks after Neal died and then you ran off, leaving me alone and pregnant? Is that what you would have preferred?”

            He hesitated there. “No…but surely you could have just told them that Neal wasn’t—.”

            “You do remember living in this town, right?” she asked him, “You can’t walk out the door without someone trying to judge what you are wearing. If I told everyone that Neal wasn’t the father the first question they would ask would be ‘Who then?’. Most would think I was lying while the rest would start pointing the blame at the other men in town.”

            “So you’re just going to let them carry on with this notion?” Gold asked, his voice raised slightly. He was still following her. Apparently he wasn’t going to stop until she slammed the door in his face.

            “I decided back when all of this began to just say nothing. I can’t control what they think, and I couldn’t exactly tell them the truth.”

            “But what about, Liam? When he gets older, are you going to grow up letting him think his father is dead?”

            “He knows his father is alive,” Belle told him. He stopped on the sidewalk, his eyes widening just a little. “He asked who his father was last year and I told him that he left before he was born. That’s all he knows.”

            “And…and when he’s older?”

            Belle sighed. “I don’t know yet. How do you tell your son his father didn’t want him?”

            “Belle, it’s not—.”

            She was tired of this. She hurried on down the sidewalk, but he still couldn’t take the hint. “I never said I don’t want Liam, I just don’t think I can be the father he deserves.”

            “You can’t have it both ways,” Belle told him, “Either you want to be his father or you don’t and you already made your decision. I’d rather you go your way and I go mine.”

            “Belle,” he said her name in plea, but he never got to continue.

            She stopped just in front of her apartment, her heart stopping as well. “Belle?” he said her name in a question.

            She raised one shaking hand towards her ground-level apartment. “The door…it’s open. It shouldn’t be open.”

            For one moment, the horror sat between them. Then Belle raced towards the door with Gold calling after her. She barely registered the broken lock, just shoved the useless piece of wood open.

            She walked into a disaster.

            Her living room/kitchen was destroyed. The lamp in the corner was now on the floor, the drawers on the desk that also held her only TV were all open and their contents scattered. The cabinets in the kitchen had all been ransacked as well. Liam’s toys had been flung around everywhere, but she knew he hadn’t done that.

            Belle didn’t care about the mess. “Liam!” she called out, “Liam! Ruby!” She ran down the short hall to the only bedroom. Her room had been destroyed as well. Someone had even lifted the mattress off of Liam’s tiny bed and left it askew. “Liam!” she called out again and got down on her knees to look under her bed.

            She ran to the bathroom next. The medicine cabinet was open and the top of the toilet had been removed, but other than that the room was neat compared to the others. “Liam!”

            Nothing.

            Belle could feel the air gushing out of her pants. She ran back to the living room. Gold was still there, surveying the entire disaster. “They’re—they’re not here,” Belle told him, “Liam and Ruby…Liam…”

            “Belle,” he said softly.

            “My son…my son is gone! Where is my son!” She was clutching his coat now, her fingers digging into the shoulders.

            “We’ll find him,” he told her, “I’ll find him. It will be all right, Belle. I promise you I will find him.” He pulled her into his chest and she buried her face into his coat. There was a wisp of a memory there, when she was sixteen and crying because her father was drunk again and she had to spend her paycheck on their electric bill. It was part of the reason she had fallen in love with him when she was so young. Everyone thought he was just a greedy, heartless bastard, but she’d seen the softer side to him. She’d felt it when he’d held her just like he did now.

            “Whoa, what the hell happened here?”

            Both Gold and Belle turned around to see they were no longer alone. Ruby stood in the doorway, hardly noticing them, choosing to focus on the surrounding mess. Liam was beside with chocolate still on his cheeks and nose. “Mommy?” he asked, sounding a little scared.

            Hearing her son’s voice broke the spell over her. Belle broke away from Gold to run to her son, drawing him into her arms, kissing the top of his head, and breathing in his scent. “Oh sweetie, are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

            “No.”

            “We were a bit bored,” Ruby said, “So I took him to the park and then we went for ice cream. I left a note.” She waved her hand over towards the kitchen. “I guess I see why you might have missed it.”

            “I’m just glad you two are okay,” Belle said.

            “Yeah, lucky,” Ruby said.

            “Doubtful,” Gold replied, earning a look from both of them, “What I mean to say is who ever did this was probably waiting for the two of you to leave.”

            Belle didn’t care. She was just glad her son was okay. She kept one arm around him the whole time, smoothing his hair or touching his cheeks.

            “I guess we should call the sheriff,” Ruby said. She turned around in a full circle. “Uh, do you know where the phone is?”

            Gold solved the problem by pulling out his cell-phone. “Sheriff? Yes, this is Mr. Gold. I’m at Belle French’s apartment. There’s been a break in, probably a robbery. Yes she and Liam are fine, thank you. We’ll see you soon.”

            “I guess we should start seeing if anything is missing,” Belle said.

            “Mommy, what happened?” Liam asked.

            “Some bad man came in and broke into our house,” she told him, “he might have stolen some things. Why don’t you go look at your toys and see if any of them are missing?”

            “Rexie!” Liam cried and ran towards their bedroom to see if his beloved dinosaur was gone. Meanwhile, Belle went to inspect the damage done to the desk. The money she’d kept stashed in the hollow book (a gift from Neal he’d found in his father’s shop) was gone, no surprise there.

            “Hey, Gold, are you okay?” Ruby’s question had her looking back at him. He hasn’t left yet. He was still standing there, looking at the room Liam had disappeared into. His hands were clenched around the handle of his cane so hard the knuckles were white.

            “Fine,” he said, but he didn’t sound it.

            “You don’t have to stay,” Belle told him, “I’ve got this covered.”

            “You can’t stay here,” he told her.

            “She won’t,” Ruby said, “I’ll call Granny, I’m sure she’ll let them stay at the inn.”

            Gold nodded. “Send me the bill.”

            “Do _not_ do that, Ruby,” Belle cut in immediately, “I’ll be sure to pay Granny myself.”

            “Belle,” he pleaded her name.

            “This is my apartment,” Belle reminded him, “My property and my life. I make the call here.”

            “Technically I own the building as well as the inn,” he said, “So shouldn’t it be my call?”

            “How about the two of you just stop arguing and remember that it’s my grandmother’s inn and she’ll make the call,” Ruby cut in to say.

            Belle pursed her lips, knowing Ruby was right. She could offer Granny all of the money she wanted, but she wouldn’t take a dime. Belle hated it, but Granny would insist, “It’s not charity, it’s family.” Even she had to admit, it was nice to have family to count on even if they weren’t related by blood.

            There was a gentle knock on the doorframe and they all turned around to see that Sheriff Graham and Deputy Swan had just arrived. “Everyone okay in here?” Graham asked.

            “Yes, we’re fine,” Belle said, “Thank you for coming, Graham.”

            “No problem, I’m glad you are okay.”

            The patter of tiny sneakers came from down the hall. Liam charged back into the living room brandishing a stuffed red dinosaur. “Mommy, the bad guys didn’t take Rexie! He was under the bed! I promise I didn’t put him there or my army men!”

            Ruby let out a snort and even Deputy Swan cracked a smile. Belle combed her fingers through Liam’s hair. “I’m glad Rexie is okay.”

            “My piggy bank is broke though. It had two dollars and seven cents.”

            Graham smiled. “I’ll make a note of that, Liam.”

            “I’ll start dusting for prints,” Emma said, “Go around the place too, Belle, see what else is missing.”

            “Ruby, can you tell me what time you left?” Graham turned his attention to the waitress. It was going to be a long night of questions, salvaging, and then going to Granny’s.

            “I’m going to help Emma, mommy,” Liam said.

            Belle smiled. “Okay, sweetheart.”

            Liam scampered off to watch Emma dust for prints and no doubt hound her with a dozen questions. There was so much to be done, but at least Liam wasn’t fully aware of just what had happened that night. Belle sighed and turned around, ready to fully inspect the living room to see what was missing and broken. She jumped when she saw Gold was still there. For a moment, she’d forgotten he was still in her apartment.

            “Mr. Gold,” she said, “I…I think you should probably go.”

            “Belle, let me stay and help.”

            She shook her head. “This isn’t your problem. I can take it from here. It’s late and I’m sure your fiancée is waiting for you.”

            “Belle,” he pleaded her name, but she just turned away. She knew he wanted to help, but couldn’t he see that if she took it then she would be no better than a kept woman? She wouldn’t be that, even if their affair was seven years ago. She knew he just wanted to do what he felt was right, but it was too late for that.

            He had broken her heart seven years ago, she couldn’t let that happen to Liam. It was better to handle this on her own. It may make money tight for a very long time, but at least her son would be safe from heartbreak. Her as well.

* * *

          Pongo let out a yip, staring up at Dr. Hopper with pleading brown eyes. Hopper chuckled and shook his head. “Okay boy, just one more treat.”

            He opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out one bone-shaped dog biscuit and tossed it in the air. Pongo’s jaws snapped over it, chomping it into bits. It was almost time to close up and go home. Archie was already getting his things together when there was a frantic knock.

            “Come in,” he called. He was more than a little surprise to see Gold hurrying inside. “Mr. Gold, is something wrong?”

            “Yes, you could say that,” he said, “Belle’s apartment was broken into and Liam was missing.”

            “What?” Archie gasped, “Liam is gone?” This could shatter Mr. Gold completely if that was the case.

            “We didn’t know where he was,” Gold prattled on, pacing in front of the settee, “Belle was frantic. She was crying and I just told her I was going to find him. Damn it, I was! I would have found him!”

            “Mr. Gold, where is Liam?” Archie asked with more force.

            “He’s fine,” Gold said at last, “Ruby Lucas had taken him for ice cream. They weren’t home when it happened.”

            Archie let out a long sigh. “Well that is a relief.”

            “But he could have been,” Gold said, “My son could have been hurt.”

            “But he wasn’t,” Archie reminded him, “Liam is okay.”

            “I could have lost my son,” Gold said, “I could have lost Liam. I could have lost everything all over again.”

            “Mr. Gold?” Archie asked. It appeared the man couldn’t hear him anymore.

            “I didn’t want this to happen. I thought I could protect myself, but I can’t. It’s far too late. It was too late the moment I saw him,” Gold continued, “And now that I could have lost him and Belle…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend anymore.”

            “Pretend what?” Archie asked him, “Mr. Gold, what are you talking about?”

            Gold stopped pacing. He stood frighteningly still, looking down at the fingers wrapped around the handle of his cane without even blinking. Archie couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through the man’s mind.

            At last, he looked up, his gaze focused at last. Hopper couldn’t help but gasped when he stared into his eyes. The grief and pain…it was gone. Something within that moment had changed inside of Tristan Gold.

            “Thank you, Dr. Hopper,” he said calmly, “I know what I have to do now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Gold has decided? Please review to let me know!
> 
> Next chapter: Belle and Gold have a serious talk which leads to a surprising confrontation with Cora.


End file.
